Tell Me A Story
by Hogwarts Online II
Summary: We now present The second collaboration by the Hogwarts Online Forum. The chapters are by different authors each with whom picked one prompt. Please read and review.
1. James Induced Fury, by Bridget

_This is the Second collaboration by the Hogwarts Online Forum. Each chapter is by a different author and is based on different prompts from a list of prompts on our forum. _

_Please read, enjoy and review!_

_Anything you recognise is not ours, but merely borrowed from JK Rowling._

_James-Induced Fury_

_Arrogance- James Potter I_

_By: _

_Blond Pickle Mule (Bridget- Hufflepuff)_

_Even he didn't deny it, _Lily thought furiously, storming up to her dormitory. Slamming the door behind her gave a wonderful release for her anger. _James Potter is so __**arrogant**__!_

It was true. Even the girls swooning over his wind-swept hair knew he was egotistical, but for some reason they thought it added to his charm. Lily huffed. If anything, female attention just made him worse.

That big-headed idiot was under the impression that every girl was at his feet, and this just encouraged his advances on _her. _He didn't get why she wasn't swooning along with everyone else, and that made Lily _mad._ While James was arrogant, he was also stubborn and it was obvious he still wasn't giving up. Chasing her round since 3rd year, asking her out right and left.

Lily huffed again and collapsed on her bed. Why would she go near someone who made her best-friend's life misery? Ex-bestfriend she reminded herself. She couldn't forgive Severus for what he'd said to her. And even if she wouldn't admit it, Severus' betrayal had hurt. After all, he was her first magical friend before Hogwarts, before everything. And she would hate to admit this even more- she _liked _it when Potter defended her. Even when she was screaming at him she was thinking about how sweet it was he was so defensive of her. Later she slapped herself for these thoughts.

It was bad enough liking it so much she had to admit it to herself, but if James ever found out...she'd never get him to go away. And his ego. Gosh, it would swell so big they'd be making doors wider so his massive head could fit through it. And he'd ruffle up his messy hair and smile at her, turning her to a pile of mush. The fact his smile could do this was a fact that infuriated Lily. At the beginning it hadn't had any effect at all- why should now be any different? His cocky grin used ot just make Lily's blood boil, more than ever when Severus went. In the beginning she'd thought it was all his fault Sev had said those things, but she saw now it wasn't.

Now at the beginning of 7th year...his grin was having an effect. Lily had a sneaking suspicion that her friends had joined forces with the Marauders to set them up, but was very surprised to realise she didn't mind as much as she used to. Potter _had _been trying to deflate his head lately, but today had been a bad one.

It was halfway understandable because he'd won a Quidditch match against Slytherin today (biggest celebration of the year most likely), but really he'd gone a bit far. But part of the reason Lily had stormed up here was because she hadn't given him a straight answer when he asked her ot Hogsmeade in front of the whole fo Gryffindor house. She'd frozen, staring up at him from where he stood on top of a table.

Then, about to say no, she'd looked into his eyes. His bright, deep hazel eyes. They were wide and hopeful behind his square glasses...but also scared. Lily Evans _never _thought she'd see the day James Potter was scared, and it was then that she knew she couldn't let him down in front of everyone. She didn't think she could stand to see hurt in those eyes. So instead of yelling at him she'd whispered in an uncirtain voice-

"I'll think about it." Everyone had stared at the two in disbelief, all having heard at some point or another about the arguements they'd shared. James had gawked after her as she ran towards her staircase. He obviously couldn't believe it either.

Lily herself wasn't sure it was real. And then she got angry. Why _should _it bother her that she let down James Potter in front of everyone? Logically it shouldn't but for some reason it did. And when did she turn into such a sap? This was _James Potter. _The guys she hated. Or...maybe didn't anymore. But when did that happen?When did Lily Evans begin to _like _James Potter? It was unheard of.

Oh this was so confusing. And she still had to give him an answer she wasn't even sure of anymore. She'd only ever given one answer before. And that answer had been no.

But did she like him enough to say yes? There was something there, but how deep did that go? Lily wasn't good at this; she didnt' go on dates, didn't obsess over boys like everyone else. This was the first time she'd ever liked someone- this much anyway. Maybe she would say yes. They hadn't argued lately, so it wasn't like she was admitting defeat. But Black would die if he said anything.

Alright. She'd say yes. To James Potter. Oh God...

At dinner walking into the Great Hall Lily could see James with a worried expression on his face. Lily suddenly felt guilty. She'd kept him waiting so long. It took a lot of Gryffindor courage to apprach him first, but she managed it.

"Hey...J-James. M-My answer's yes?" It was a kind of question. If he looked surprised she used his first name it was nothing compared to how James looked when she said yes. With a grin that seemed to split his face he leapt up and crushed her into a hug. Lily hesitantly hugged him back, but once she did her stomach felt on fire and she smiled.

"Lily, will you eat with us?" Remus Lupin asked, smiling as the two broke apart. James threw him a grateful look behind Lily's back as she settled onto the bench. Sirius opened his mouth with a teasing grin.

"If you say anything Sirius I swear I'll hex you." He shut up but grinned seeing Lily's smile. Peter joined them minutes later, pleasantly surprised to see the red-head. James sat close to Lily, smiling broadly.

Finally an arrogant move had payed off.


	2. Hogsmeade, by Sher

_Hogsmeade_

_by:_

_FirstYear (Sher- Gryffindor)_

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Some cities breathe in the rhythm of their people and take on their character, some rushed and hurried, some slow and sombre. Their very existence is an extension of the citizens that live and work within its boarders and without who the city writhers and dies. You have only to walk amongst the ruins of ancient haunts, climb over fallen stones and see the broken paving bricks, to know that once the inhabitants left, the city no longer lived. Sometimes, this death was quick, almost in the blink of an eye. At other times the death was long and lingering, as if the now empty roads and abandoned dwelling still breathed and fought for life.

Other cities breathe out life, their very breath giving sustenance and hope to the population. There are no great statues, no grand halls of opulence and splendour. These places only need her people to _be _so she can give them life_. _

**Hogsmeade**

The Hogshead has always been the first establishment to open its doors in the mornings, as well as the last to close at night. The current owner will make a daily trip down the narrow flight of earthen steps, inset with slabs of stone. He will go to the cool cellar and bring up the day's supply of whiskey and mead, levitating giant casks, from which the site earned its name, and cases of bottles to the dark rooms above. He will not bother to clean and scrub the floors, as the previous owner and the one before him had not done for years. His cliental is of a rougher sort not given to putting on airs and seeks the anonymity in dark corners and dim lights.

He will not sleep well, not here, not alone in his small murky rooms above the establishment. Since the war, he has heard every creak of the old floorboards and every whisper of the wind along the eves as black-caped men coming to take their revenge. With the knowledge and acceptance that only old age can bring, he will roll over and fall instantly back asleep only to wake again to each new noise.

Down the road, at the far end of this small sleepy hamlet, The Three Broomstick sits as it has for over a thousand years. First owned by the infamous Hengist, it was once a beacon to traders and merchants hawking their wares to the northern reaches of the land. Now, people that find their way to the tiny Hamlet of Hogsmeade, stay in its rooms and eat at its tables while on holiday or a shopping trip.

A comely witch will rise before the sun is up and begin to bake the daily rolls, biscuits and breads. Although Hogsmeade has few inhabitants, the innkeeper will need to be ready to feed the many guests that always find their way to the dinning room of the inn. Slowly citizens will meander down the pavement until they feel the need to reconnect with the city and their heritage. They will want to surround themselves with the assurance that their world has not completely disappeared and will feel compelled to sit in the same room others like those that have sat here before them.

Sitting over a cup of tea and a sweet biscuit, they will discuss the day, as darker men in hooded cloaks sit in the Hogs Head doing the same. Both, part of the whole that breathes in the life that is here in the quiet streets, they will not know why they come. They will not know it is the essence of those that have come before them, and took their breath from the village, that they now feel. Nor will they understand that they now must do the same. They will not feel the magic that is in the soil beneath their feet and in the air they breath, they will only feel a peace and wellness at the end of the day.

In the middle of the stretch of high roofed buildings, halfway between the Hogs Head and The Three Broomsticks, one building whose original name has been lost in antiquity stands apart from the rest. Its cellar connects to a castle that sits on the other side of the mountain pass, by an underground walkway that had once insured the student's safe passage in winter storms and an easier delivery route for supplies. Now, a train station operates on the far side of the lake, welcoming engines that belch black oily smoke and announcing arrivals with a screeching whistle. The students no longer come one by one, traders no longer needed to make the trek, and witches no longer worry about burning pyres and the need of a fast escape so the underground passage has passed form memory.

Today however, it is still a place of children. A middle-aged childless couple sells sweets, bitter chocolate and sugar coated almonds. The small building now has a sign nailed over its door declaring its name as _Honeydukes._ However, the knowledge that it is, and always will be a beacon of safety to children remains in the breath of its beams and radiates through Hogsmeade. Its unassuming presence lends and air of guardianship and a place of refuge throughout the entire town, and still the children come. They come for the sweets but are reluctant to leave, as if feeling the presence of those that have come before them.

Two other landmarks rank among the original buildings. _Dogweed and Deathcap_ the herbology shop and once the renowned destination of every scholar and Potion Master in the world of Wizards, still opens every day. Its shelves are still stocked with the seldom-used Dogweed and mysterious Deathcap and an old wizard still fills each order personally, never questioning as to its future use.

_Dervish & Banges_ sits off the main road at the end of High Street, repairers and artisans of everything wonderful and magical. The original owners of the repair shop are still remembered and spoken of with the fondness we hold for local legends and hometown heroes, although their faces and descendents are no longer known.

Over the years, other shops and a few scattered homes have sprung up. Some remain while others have long since vanished. Vanished after becoming disused, or a victim of one of the many wars that ravaged the otherwise calm and serene landscape, leaving a foundation for the new to be built upon again.

Even as the flames had roared from rooftop to rooftop only a few short years ago, in the final days of a great conflagration, even as the ancient wooden beams had splinted and fell, Hogsmeade had breathed out its life and called her children home. It was but a gentle sigh, born from the knowledge that she, as would the rest of her world, be rebuilt as she had been from the beginning of time. Rebuilt in the old ways, and by the breath of her people, she would be given new life to rise again and give them back magic in return.

A/N: Okay, I have no idea WTF a prompt of "Hogsmeade" was about. This is what came to mind…perhaps not a sane mind, but mine none the less.


	3. Rose of Love, by Sanjana

_Rose of love_

_Viktor Krum_

_By_

_greencyanide (Sanjana- Ravenclaw)_

"Papa, the zoooo! Please, Papa, you had promised three weeks ago," whined little Sergei, wiping his runny nose on his sleeve. Viktor ruffled his hair and set him down on his lap.

"You know you have to stay in, _malko edin_," he reasoned, stroking his dark hair. "When you get better, we will go to the zoo and the museum and if you are a good boy, we can even go to Lake Pancharevo."

The boy's eyes lit up. "Really?" he asked, before his face fell a little. "But I won't be getting better, will I?"

Viktor's heart stopped. The simplicity in the little boy's voice, as he said the inevitable, hit him. But he couldn't bring himself to lie, and he was ashamed of that.

Ruzha bustled into the room, carrying a plate laden with steaming banitsa, pelmeni, syrniki and some sunflower halva. She was a round-faced woman, with a face full of happiness which seemed to have been sponged away drop by drop in the last three years. However, her large blue eyes shone when she called him or Sergei and that made her look like an angel. She set the plate on the table in front of Viktor, kissed his forehead, and motioned to pick Sergei up.

"Come on, Sergei. Papa had a very big match last night. Let him eat now, and you will have to eat your food too."

Sergei squealed and struggled out of Ruzha's reach. "No! I will not eat that broth! I want to eat syrniki, like Papa," he cried.

Viktor caught him, but didn't let Ruzha take him away. "Can't he eat just a little, Ruzha?" he asked.

Ruzha huffed. "You know he can't Viktor. Sergei, come on, I will put some honey in the milk. It is going to be delicious."

Sergei shouted and jumped out of Viktor's arms and ran out of the room, crying.

Viktor stood up- he wouldn't have this anymore. He shouted on top of his lungs, "Ruzha, you might as well chain him!"

Ruzha seemed to be taken aback by his outburst, and she searched his face for something.

"You think.. you think I like this?" her voice quivered.

Viktor stared at her. He knew whatever Ruzha did was because she meant Sergei well, because she was stronger than him. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words.

"I am his mother, Viktor! Do you know what a punishment it is for me?" he voice was rasped, Viktor could see her struggling to hold back tears.

"S- Sorry Ruzha. I know what you go through. It's just- I come back from the matches, the happiness, the celebrations and when I see him, I... it takes everything to not break down," said Viktor, his eyes seeking hers.

But she did not look at him, and turned away. "Eat your breakfast, Viktor. I will wash Sergei up."

Viktor rushed to her side and caught her hand. "I said, I'm sorry, Ruzha, and I am."

Ruzha sighed so forlornly, Viktor let her hand go. He couldn't bear to watch her so broken, and she couldn't bear him to watch her like that. A very familiar, but forgotten feeling streamed through him so suddenly, he did not dare acknowledge it. He went back to the table, and picked up the newspaper. He flicked through the pages casually, when a picture caught his eyes. The caption above it read, "The Heroes of The Second Wizarding War Tie The Knot".

Below the bold script, there was smiling picture of Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. Viktor passed his fingers over the picture. They were cheerfully surrounded by their friends, the recently married Potters. He smiled ruefully.

In the last few years, his life had changed poles. He still remembered the Yule Ball, the day he and Hermione had danced away. Just like he remembered she went off crying after a row with Ronald Weasley. He was the World Champion Quidditch player, he, an ordinary wizard. It's funny how unpredictable the outcome of love is. He wouldn't imagine losing a Quidditch match to such a weak opponent. But in the game of life, he had been defeated by the ordinary wizard. Love won, they say, but did it really? Did he not _love_ her?

His parents had arranged his marriage to Ruzha. They got married and had Sergei a year later. They were his life now, whether he liked it or not. A year ago, he learnt of Sergei's terminal illness, and it shook the life out of him. It had seemed the bits and pieces he was trying to build his life back on were wrenched away from him again. Because he loved Sergei more than he had ever imagined he ever could. And Ruzha... It struck him on the face like a thunder. He threw down the paper and ran into his study.

With shaking fingers, he picked out the hard-bound book, _The Laments of The Boatman_. The pages were dog-eared; he had read the book so many times. Carefully, he opened page three hundred and forty six. There was a picture of Hermione, frozen. It was a Muggle picture she had given him- she thought it was her best, and he had agreed. He took the picture out, and below it, was a small lump of scarlet cloth. He gently lifted it from the pages, and opened the folds of the cloth. Inside it lay a beautiful pearlescent pink rose. It was the Rose Of Love that grew by the edge The Fountain of Spirit. When a true lover keeps it wrapped in a white stain cloth for five years, the wine red colour drains into the cloth and achieves the colour of the precious pearls. He took the rose and went out of the study. He had duelled with the jötunn to get this precious gift of love. He would give his rose to the person he really loved, yet had never realized, or worse, had never let himself realize. But he will mend that; he will brace this love and never let it get away. The Rose of Love for Rose... His Rose... His Ruzha.


	4. Sanity Lost, by Aly

_Sanity Lost_

_Prompt: Things I Will Never Say_

_Character: Narcissa Malfoy_

_By: Goldeneyedgirl247 Aly (Gryffindor)_

Truth. Narcissa shivered. The truth is a scary thing when you've lain under layers of falsehood for a lifetime. From birth, Narcissa Black had been groomed. Not raised, groomed to be the perfect child. A statue. Seen, not heard. Appreciated, but not understood. Some things were set so deep in the lie Narcissa had grown accustomed to living that they felt like the memories. The truths of a different person. Things she would simply never say.

Narcissa sat at her desk, running her slender fingers along the intricate cravings that adorned the mahogany. She closed her eyes and took a breath.

Tomorrow she would testify against her husband. He would be sent to Azkaban or sentenced to death. She had come to realize long before the war's end that he would pay. She had buried all emotion concerning him beneath layers, at the bottom of the pool of things she wished to be forgotten, and thus were.

The letter of confirmation that sat in front of her was merely a reminder. It made the trial seem much more real.

She sighed, daintily pressing her palm to her forehead. Tomorrow she would testify under Veritaserum. For the first time in Narcissa's life, the layers of the pool she had sent numerous hours creating through occlumency would ripple and shatter apart, leaving behind a sea of chaos.

Narcissa was not often afraid, but the truth was something to fear. It brought about emotions and memories that she wished to suppress. It made her feel more than she would have liked. It made her weak. It made her human.

Confronting the truth was like confronting a lion. You could fight, and sometime you would emerge stronger, but there was a higher chance of being ripped to shreds by its teeth.

Narcissa decided that she would rather confront her emotions on her own terms. All Dark pureblooded witches and wizards feared truth as they feared death. Still, she would rather face the horrors and lies alone. In her office she would feel less shame. She would save herself from the jury's pity. She did not want it. She did not need it.

Slowly she reached into the pool, careful not to allow for the water along its surface to ripple and pull. She found a truth. One she had known she though she would never be confronted with again.

Narcissa was the youngest of her sisters, and while most parents would fuss over their youngest, Narcissa's parents tended to forget about her. They had, after all, already gone through the tedious process raising a little girl, twice. And so, the care of Narcissa fell into her sisters' hands.

Bellatrix was the most powerful, magically and otherwise. Narcissa idolized her eldest sister. She followed her around and imitated each of her mannerisms. Bellatrix went along with the admiration that came from her sister; it made her feel strong. From the beginning, power called to her. Still, Bellatrix would treat the blonde as an assistant, a follower. Not as a younger sibling. While Narcissa enjoyed being treated as an adult, she sometimes wished Bellatrix would not be so cold. They were sisters, after all.

On the day Narcissa was born, Andromeda was the first to hold her. She looked into the babe's blue eyes and saw a vulnerability she had never seen in the eyes of Bellatrix or her mother. She swore protect and shelter her baby sister from the vicious world. Each night before bed, Andromeda would kiss Narcissa's forehead and promise to be with her for always, to protect her though everything. She stood up for her sister when Narcissa angered Bellatrix, and when Narcissa needed a shoulder to cry on, it was always Andromeda's.

In her life Narcissa had never felt more pain than on the day Andromeda left. The night before her escape Andromeda had come to Narcissa's bedroom and apologized. Not for the disgrace, but for breaking her promise.

Narcissa had always loved Andromeda the best, but she would never forgive her sister for having abandoned her in the cold world of their terrible family.

Next Narcissa dug deeper into the eleventh year of her life, eyes still closed and head held high in fierce concentration. She grabbed hold of a thread and pulled, watching it unwind.

When Narcissa was placed under the Sorting Hat she closed her eyes and prayed to be put in Slytherin. She refused to let down her family. She would be a Slytherin no matter what.

The Sorting Hat chuckled because her sense of pride and loyalty was that of a perfect Hufflepuff.

She knew she would make a good Hufflepuff, she was caring and loyal to her friends and family, and she was stubborn like a badger, her jaw locked fiercely in battle. However, the world would see her as a Slytherin. Camouflage was often a valuable gift.

Narcissa fought the urge to head back, to leave the pool still. But she would not allow herself to cower in fear of her own mind. She dove deeper, thinking of Lucius.

Narcissa met Lucius Malfoy when she was seven years old.

Throughout school he courted her. They went on dates and kissed in the corridors, but it was all a formality; their parents had arranged their marriage before they had been born.

Lucius married her when she turned seventeen. Narcissa wore a white gown with a long train and her bridesmaids carried pink lilies. It was the picture of a storybook wedding.

When she and Lucius kissed under the canopy, she knew she loved him.

When Lucius held her son and named him Draco in keeping with her family's tradition, she knew she loved him.

When Lucius pledged allegiance to Lord Voldemort, she was not sure.

When Lucius handed her son over to Lord Voldemort, she knew she hated him.

She let herself cry, then. Narcissa cried for what her husband might have been. There must have been at time at which he had been good. Where his loving gaze had been pure and untainted by a love of power.

Narcissa grabbed hold of the desk as emotions flooded through of her. She felt as if her brain would explode, a massive bloody pool. Memory after truth played in front of her. Her eyes crossed in agony. Narcissa cried out, but there was no one to hear.

Narcissa felt a tinge of happiness taint the water, and intrigued in her anguish, she floated writhing to greet the warmth.

When Draco was born Narcissa had exclaimed that he looked so much like Lucius. The healer told Narcissa he had her smile.

As he grew she came to realize that although Draco looked so much like Lucius, it was his smile that defined him. He really was a lot more like her.

For that, she was glad.

Narcissa let the happiness overwhelm her. She had always told him that he was like his father. She had always told him that he should be proud. Now, it was she who was proud, but a little bit sad.

She dove further, splitting her thoughts. Pushing her very limits to the deepest and coldest parts of her mind. She made herself go further. She could barely breathe. She saw the face of the creature her husband called Lord.

She hated him. She was a dark witch, and essentially shared his views, but hated what he had done to the world, to her family. Lord Voldemort was cruel and terrible and more corrupt than any Dark Lord had ever been.

When her husband asked her to take the Mark, she lied and said she would rather it not stain her skin. She let him believe it was vanity, narcissism.

In truth, she rathered it not stain her soul.

Narcissa was going mad, and only one memory flashed behind her eyes. By now she was writhing on the floor as she attempted to real herself in from her mind. It was no use, the ties had snapped. Narcissa was a prisoner of her own truths.

"You, examine him. Tell me whether he is dead," the Dark Lord hissed, pointing at her.

Trembling with fear she leaned over to the boy. He looked so young. So innocent. He was the same age as Draco, but had suffered hardships no adult should ever have to endure. She felt pity and compassion for the boy lying dead in the mud.

Just then his eyelids fluttered. She quickly blocked the motion from the Dark Lord with her body.

"Is Draco alive?" she whispered urgently in his ear. "Is he in the castle?"

Narcissa closed her eyes and prayed for her son. He was all that mattered to her anymore.

"Yes."

Narcissa felt her heart swell and she raised her head to recall words she would afterward wonder whether or not would have been uttered had the boy's answer differed.

"He is dead!" She cried, fighting the Dark Lord with the occlumency shield she had kept hidden for years.

It has been said that the truth will set one free.

When Narcissa was five Andromeda had taken her to a zoo. There she saw a polar bear, swimming in an ice-cold pool under the London smog.

"Shouldn't we set him free Andy?" she had asked her older sister.

"We can't Cis," Andromeda shook her head. "It doesn't know how to be free."

Narcissa nodded, not quite understanding.

Some people, like the polar bear, are never meant to be set free. Some are bred into captivity, and would never survive a different world. They would drown.

Narcissa was the polar bear. And as her chains came free from a world of lies and hated memories, Narcissa felt her sanity slip, inch by inch.

Her last sane though was directed towards her husband.

Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa thought, I hope you die.

And with that, she left the world behind.


	5. Tree, by Titania

_Tree_

_Character: Remus Lupin_

_By: Titania Took- Kat (Gryffindor)_

Remus Lupin was completely and utterly, mind-numbingly terrified, and was not particularly enjoying the experience. His palms were coated in sweat, and while he had heard somewhere that this was designed for making it easier to climb trees, it appeared to be having quite a detrimental effect on his own tree-climbing skills. He kept slipping.

He had been climbing this tree ever since he could walk to the end of his garden. It was a large one, closer to the house and separate from the rest of them where the line between garden and forest blurred, yet still too far away. He remembered clearly his father's many warnings not to go near the forest after dark, but they were of no use now. Besides, his tent was in fact a quite a way away from it. It wasn't his fault that a wolf seemed to have smelt the sweets they had brought outside with them, and come into the garden.

Said wolf looked up at him, yellow eyes gleaming. Jimmy, his best friend, who he was meant to be camping out with, was on the branch below, and was struggling to find his next foothold, not being as experienced a climber. He offered his hand, and the boy gladly took it, using it to take his weight until he could get to the next branch, higher up than he would have been able to stretch on his own. Remus offered him a comforting grin, but it was strained, and they both knew it. Fortunately, eight-year old boys are made for danger, although he would have preferred it not to be quite such dangerous danger.

"Aren't dogs supposed to not be able to climb trees? That's why cats go up them to escape. And wolves are just like giant fierce dogs, right?" Jimmy's voice was going a little squeaky with fear by the end.

Remus nodded thoughtfully. He wasn't quite sure how the wolf was following them up the tree either. It was already several metres off the ground, and not all that many below them. All he knew was that they had to get higher up, and fast. There were a few tricky bits soon, that there was no way a wolf could manage. He wrenched his eyes away from those yellow orbs doing their best to paralyse him with fear, and that mouth with the saliva dripping from it, lips curled up in anticipation of what he dared not think about.

Movements practised many times over came to him with ease, and a few minor scrapes later, he had hauled himself two metres further, and now turned back to Jimmy, still below him, and struggling with the last manoeuvre – a complex one that had taken him several days to master, and found his gaze once more unable to be torn from the wolf that was steadily and not all that slowly gaining on them.

"Remus? Help?" His terrified voice choked out as barely a whisper, and there were tears streaming down his face. The older boy crouched down on his branch, and once again offered a hand, now with considerably more blood on it due to all the scratches he had obtained. Jimmy, reached out to take it, but couldn't quite reach. They both stretched out as far as they could, until Remus tumbled from his branch, and fell a metre or two before hitting another branch that didn't snap, bruising his ribs quite a lot in the process.

The wolf was now close enough for him to see with petrifying detail the blood dripping from its jagged fangs. He scrambled up, studiously ignoring the pain, and began to frantically climb. But the stress and fear was stopping his mind from working properly, it seemed, and movements that had before been instinctual – right hand to there, swing, foot onto that branch, weight on the trunk before grabbing the next branch - were now blocked from his memory, and he had to try and work out what to do while under the extreme pressure of painful death, something he did not thrive in.

The wolf managed to sink its fangs into his ankle, but he kicked it in the muzzle, hanging from just his arms, and swung up onto the next branch, leaving it a little way behind, though too little for his liking. The throbbing pain was too much to ignore, and he was unable to stand on his left foot, which made some of the steps somewhat harder. Jimmy was waiting for him, ever the noble friend, but he gestured desperately for him to continue. Remus would be fine on his own, and he was by far the better climber.

He frantically reached for the next branch, and within a few minutes was once more up to his friend's level. They exchanged panicked glances, and continued to climb as fast as they could, which was nowhere near as fast as they would have liked to be going. Remus could only be thankful for all the times he had climbed up the tree with a book in his hand, meaning he was already used to climbing one limb down. He paused to wait for Jimmy, who had frozen, with the wolf nearly upon him.

There was one scream as the wolf leapt at him, and then they were crashing through the branches. Remus could only watch in horror as the beast tore at his best friend's limp body, spilling blood and guts all over the grass, and felt the need to vomit. He tried to climb, but it was new territory for him, higher than he had ever been before, and the branches were thinning. The feeling of pure terror when one eventually snapped underneath him and he began to fall was matched only by the time when he had been struggling to shake the wolf's jaws off of him.

His fall was broken exceedingly painfully on his already well-battered body by what and used to be his favourite branch to sit on, several metres below. He looked around for any sign of the wolf, but it was still at the bottom of the tree. With Jimmy. That thought brought a whole new wave of anger as well as the fear and the pain, but the fear won out, and he tried to clamber upwards once more, until he realised that he had sprained his wrist in the fall, and could go no further. He was literally a sitting duck.

The wolf, that horrible creature, looked up from the remains of his friend, and stared straight at Remus. He didn't really care. His best friend was dead, and all because of his stupid camping trip. Its glowing yellow eyes glared for a moment, and then it stalked off, back into the darkness of the forest.

Once he was sure that it was gone, he slowly slid back down the tree, wincing with each movement, and thankful that it was not hugely far. He sat down by his best friend's mangled body, not that he could move anywhere else, and finally let out the choked sobs that he had been trying to suppress, to convince himself and Jimmy that they were going to be fine. They were anything but fine, and it was all his fault.

And when his parents arrived, and the people from St. Mungo's Hospital, he didn't even notice, until they tried to take Jimmy away from him, and had to give him something that made him sleep to pry away the body. But he did remember how they had been whispering when he woke up - "…broke his neck when he fell…dead before the animal got to him…", and how he had screamed and cried when he realised that it wasn't all a dream, and had had to be sedated once more until he stopped sobbing. And he remembered with perfect clarity the pain and the fear and the terrible sorrow of that night for many years to come.

They did not realise what had really transpired that night until a month after the event, when Remus had to be hexed into submission by his mother after he transformed into a wolf and began rampaging around the house. By the month after that, they had built a dungeon in the cellar, where Remus would go every full moon as soon as night fell, and struggle against his chains until the morning came. Eventually things returned to normal, or as normal as things could be when you had a werewolf child. People forgot about it, until the time came, all except for Remus. He didn't go near another tree for the next three years.


	6. Truth, by Karla

_Truth_

_Character: Victoire Weasley_

_By: _

_DoubleCaramel (Karla - Ravenclaw)_

_n._**lie**

**1. **A false statement deliberately presented as being true; a falsehood.

**2. **Something meant to deceive or give a wrong impression.

**3. **To convey a false image or impression: **Appearances often lie****.**

**TRUTH**

_**October 23, 2022**_

"_C'est vrai? __Réponds moi!__ I_s it true, is it _fucking_ true!" Victoire Weasley shouts, her eyes shining furiously and threatening to spill tears as she looks at the group of woman who betrayed her, spreading filthy lies behind her back. They all stand speechless; no one knows what to say.

Dominique steps tentatively forward. "Vicky we - we weren't serious, you know . . ." Her words trail off and she reaches out her left hand to grab hold of her sister, but Victoire pulls away. Her eyes glare daggers at the younger witch.

"I want the truth!" she screams, waving her hands at the crowd gathered around her. "You all think I am two-faced slut who is only getting the job because of her legs! Admit it!"

"Vicky calm down, you are making a scen-"

"Well, let me make a scene! I want the truth!" She stops, closing her eyes as tears of anger rather than sadness cascade down her cheeks. No one answers her, but the faces, both scared and holding disgustingly knowing and reproachful expressionstell her enough. "Forget it! I don't need your lies. I quit!"

She storms out, knowing deep down that even with her unprofessional tantrum and her blotchy red-eyes, most men there wouldn't think twice if they could have her. Bastards. Maybe, the fact that the whispers she heard her colleagues and her own sister sprout venomously held some truth to them was why she didn't stay to hear an answer.

She wants them to tell the truth, but in the end she doesn't want to hear it.

"_Maman! Who is prettier, me or Dominique?"_

"_Oh, ma petite, you are both pretty in equal mannerz."_

**Lies.**

Her mother had never heard Dominique cry at the door before creeping into Victoire's bedroom, calling her names. Again and again, the guys she'd like had said no because she wasn't like _her_, because Dominique's hair wasn't as long and blond as hers, but fizzy in the rain, because her eyes weren't blue, because her skin wasn't pale and freckle-free . . . In short, because Dominique wasn't her.

Yet she knows if her own mother told that to Dominique, it would hurt her little sister who said she loved her, even when she bad-mouthed her behind her back. Victoire wants the truth, but the truth hurts.

"Hey, Vicky." Suddenly, the voice of her old boyfriend, actually, her old fiancé, brings her back to the present. She finds herself standing in the Ministry hall. She broke it off with him after they stood for an hour in front of each other in a restaurant (a fancy one) and couldn't find anything to say.

He used to tell her he was with her because she was beautiful . . . beautiful inside. But he never managed to compliment her in anything but her deep blue eyes (his words not hers).

_Her back arches against the cold Hogwarts wall, nex__t to the old Potions classroom. The boy with psychedelic__blue hair trails kisses down her neck. He says he loves her._

"_You are the most intelligent, fantastic person in the world."_

_She giggles, __unable to do anything else when she sees his flustered face and dishevelled hair.__Don't you think I am just a little bit pretty?"_

"_Well, there's that too." They laugh, and she thinks he really means he is with her for her head and not her legs._

**Lies.**

He was only with her because of one thing, a thing that turned into marriage because of his godfather. She was lucky she had left him; they had nothing in common. They were just two pretty people who looked even prettier together.

She wished her family could have told her the truth, told her they didn't suit each other, that they didn't know anything about each other... Perhaps, though, she hadn't wanted to hear the truth.

"Vicky! Are you there?" He is holding her hand and talking loudly to her. She notices she is still in the middle of the Ministry stairs and Teddy's eyes are now blue, the same blue as her father's. His appearance is another lie; she wonders what he truly looks like. But then, would she like his real appearance, or prove to be as vain as he is?

Tears are falling down her eyes again. She isn't weak, she knows it, she is strong, intelligent Victoire Weasley, nor futile weak Vicky. She pulls her arm away from the man holding it, her ex fiancé, Teddy _freaking_ Lupin who is nothing but a liar in her life, nothing but another liar.

Running down the stairs, she reaches a fireplace, almost knocking down an old lady (who is carrying too many cats for her weight) and grabs fistfuls of thegreen powder that will take her home. She just wants to be alone and find the truth . . . or discover if she really wants to find it at all.

She closes her eyes and shouts, "Shell cottage."

Out of the fireplace, her eyes scatter her surroundings crazily holding a glint of madness; her dad is, as usual, reading a newspaper, ugly scars adorning his face . . . He used to tell her he got them from a Quidditch accident.

_It's Christmas Eve and they are celebrating __at their house that year. Everyone is chatting happily and six-year-old Victoire sits happily on her father's lap "Papa, did the Big Bad Wolf give you those scars?"_

_Her Daddy's face turns blank and a dead silence takes over the room. Nobody quite notices__, but her father's right hand is and clutching his own knee painfully. "Who?"_

"_The __Big Bad Wolf, from 'Little Red Riding Hood'. Aunty Mione told us the story the other day."_

"_Nonsense__." It's her uncle Percy that answers._

**Lies.**

The house itself is a lie.

Her parents always told her the house was built on love, but it was a lie. She had to learn this in class, in front of the two dozen students who took History of Magic with her. Even worse, she had to learn in from a ghost, a creature she deeply despised, because they stay on earth in fear of knowing the truth.

There was a dead House Elf buried in her backyard, the backyard where she used to play hide and seek with her brother and sister and build mud castles.

"_Papa_, who am I?"

Her father, who was reading the newspaper and hadn't properly acknowledged his eldest daughters arrival raises his head up to find her covered in floo powder, not moving. "Not again," he mumbles to himself.

"Did I even deserve the job as Chief Attendant of Witchcraft? Or did you get it for me again? Or was it my legs, my breasts, my ars-?"

"_Enough! _Victoire, I don't know what you're going on about but -"

"But _nothing_! Lies, they're all fucking lies! I am messed up and nobody gives a darn about me." She stops; regaining her breath before deciding her father is the one to blame. "It's your fault, you know, for marrying a part-Veela instead of a normal woman-"

At Fleur's mention he folds the newspaper and gets up, facing his daughter at eye level, "You will _not _speak of your mother that way!"

But Victoire ignores him and continues her rant. He must know. "-who gave birth to me on the day your brother and I don't know how many others died! My life is crap and it's your fault, because of your lies! I hate you people." She falls on the floor, defeated, but her father doesn't back away fromher tantrum but kneels next to her and says in a calm and gentle voice words that aren't gentle at all.

"Now, listen. It's not my or your mother's fault that your life is the way it is." His hand ruffles his hair in frustration; he doesn't know how to tell her what she doesn't want to hear without hurting her.

"You should be thankful everyday for just being here. Many people died to give you the place you know in society, and many are still in worse situations than you. Some people wish they could be complaining about beauty or positions in life that they might not deserve; y_ou_ should see the world one day."

He lifts himself up, not tearing his eyes away from hers. "The world _outside_ this little box of truth and lies that you made in your head. Things aren't black and white. You may hate me, but I still love you, even though you are a spoiled brat."

He leaves. He said the truth. She doesn't know what to do, so she cries. It has all gone too far. Maybe it's Dominique's fault; after all, she started it. Victoire doesn't know anymore. She just wants it to be over; she is sick of lies. She wants to be normal, to live knowing the truth, the truth she hates to hear.

Her mother comes to her, hugs her and kisses her head saying her _Papa_ doesn't mean it. She sings her a lullaby and makes her fall asleep.

She wants to ask how many times she has had these breakdowns, but she is scared of hearing the truth, knowing for certain that it may have been more than once. She falls asleep in her mother's arms.

_n.__pl._**truth**

**1. **A statement proven to be or accepted as true.

**2. **Sincerity; integrity.

**3.**That which is considered to be the supreme reality and to have the ultimate meaning and value of existence.

**October 26, 2022**

She apologizes.

To her father, to her sister, to everyone. She pretends the lies her sister tells about her in the Ministry bathroom don't affect her. She tells Teddy she is sorry for running away, and she gets a job with Uncle Ron at the shop.

She smiles and is happy,until someone else tells her about the lies going behind her back and she once more wants to find out the truth . . . The truth she doesn't want to hear, the truth that she can't handle.

A young brunette wants to buy _Edible Dark Marks_**, **Victoire smiles and pretends to care, because the little girl wouldn't want the truth. Not even Victoire wants it.

The truth is in the end nothing but the fact that she is running away from lies (or is it the truth?) making more up in the process. It hurts knowing that her life is nothing but shards of broken glass and that the only thing that saves her in the end of the day is her name and her beauty.

The brunette looks up at her and smiles "Thank you, miss. You are very pretty."

It is the real, futile truth: In the end, she is nothing but a pretty face.

**Victoire Weasley**

**Successful; Mothe****r of Two; Deeply Missed.**

**Lies.**

**A/N:** The Beta for this one-shot was the lovely Julia (Julia Claire – Ravenclaw). She is made of awesome. ^_~


	7. Skin, by Ellie

_Skin_

_character: Albus Severus Potter_

_By:_

_s i l v e r a u r o r a (Ellie - Slytherin)_

prompt: skin

pairing: AlbusOCJames

chosen character: Albus Severus Potter

:-:

the symphony of our skin

i recall a long farewell, and a time to

choose; and we part like rivers baby

- Twilight, Thriving Ivory

:-:

She turns his head (and signs his death warrant).

i.

James brings her home one unremarkable day during the Easter holidays. Albus, seventeen, bored, is lounging on the sofa and fighting half-heartedly with Lily over the TV remote.

"Lils, I am not watching your stupid cartoons. That's Teddy's job."

"Whatever," she pouts at him, snatching the remote of him and punching him hard enough in the upper arm to numb it all the way down to his hand. "I'm the girl. You have to give me the remote."

"No, I don't," he replies idly, not really in the mood to make much of an effort, which is a pity because Lily seems to be in one of those dizzying moods where she's so full of energy it's like she'll start bouncing off the walls any second.

"Just because you don't understand girls, Al, isn't an excuse to bully your poor baby sister," she taunts, apparently pretty determined to provoke him into an argument.

"Look, Lily –" he begins, but gets no further because at that precise moment the sitting room door crashes open and James bounds in, sweeping Lily up into his arms and smothering her face in kisses as she squeals and protests and twists to get away.

"It's alright, I'm back, you can stop panicking now!" James announces with a beam, his arms full of his wriggling sister as he gestures grandly around the room at large. Lily bites his shoulder, hard, and he drops her with a yelp and rubs it with a look of hurt as he crosses the room to usher a new someone into the room.

"Al, Lily, this is Chloé, my girlfriend," James proclaims grandly, and Lily snorts for his prattish ways as she clambers to her feet and moves over to greet the absurdly pretty blonde who is regarding the siblings with something akin to… envy, or something.

"Hi," Lily says loudly, seizing the blonde's hand and pumping it enthusiastically. "I'm Lily, the cool member of our family."

She sends a pointed look over her shoulder at Al, but it is entirely wasted.

Because, see, he was lost the moment Chloé walked in the room.

ii.

She stays for the afternoon, taking a seat on the edge of the sofa as James lounges with a careless arm on the back of the couch and Lily expostulates eagerly about some arrangements for the summer that Al pays no attention to.

His eyes are glued to her as she sits shyly, listening politely to Lily's incessant chattering and occasionally sending him curious looks.

His eyes follow the way the sunlight catches her fair hair, the way her curls shift when she moves minutely, the way her blue eyes meet his calmly and interestedly every now and again.

He's sprawled in his armchair in the corner, his black hair flopping into his eyes as he silently watches his two siblings bicker over the spotlight and try to out-loud each other.

Eventually, he finds himself unable to bear the way James' arm is thrown over the back of the sofa, the bare skin of his forearm just barely grazing the pale skin of her shoulder, and he shoves himself out of the chair and stalks from the room with a muttered excuse about the loo or something.

"Al," a voice calls, more confident now, and he whirls halfway down the hall to find her following him out, her face shadowed by the light above them. "I didn't have a chance to say – it's good to see you."

"What are you doing here?" he spits out, full of suspicion as she bows her head sorrowfully. "What the fuck d'you think you're doing here?"

"I really like James," she murmurs, taking a brave step closer and angling her head up to look at him, her eyes startling full of honesty.

"Bullshit," Al replies instantly, too angry to even be sarcastic or make much sense. "You're Slytherin."

"I'd have thought you'd got over that prejudice by now," she retorts, starting to get riled up, her hands planting themselves firmly on her hips. "After all, your own little sister is in Slytherin."

"Yes, but my little sister hasn't sworn to get her revenge on our family, has she?"

Her forehead creases, her brows drawing together ferociously. "You only have your stupid cousins to blame for that. If they could have stopped their dim-witted vendetta against us Slytherins for just a couple of months, it might have been different."

He moves closer suddenly, invading her personal space until his chest is right in her line of vision and she has to lean her head back to meet his icy, stormy gaze.

"You do anything to hurt my brother, right," he warns darkly, his hands fisting in the material of the dress at her hips, "and I will personally hunt you down and make your life a living hell."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" she whispers, her warm breath ghosting over his face and smelling of promises and enticement and forbiddenness.

He doesn't know what he'd have done next, so it is with great relief that he hears the sitting room door crash open and Lily explode into the hallway with a cry of "Teddy!"

"I'm warning you," he mutters to her, his hand tracing up her bare forearm, the slight drag of skin on skin compelling and sexy and exciting. "Don't try anything."

"Tempt me not," she shoots back, and then James is bounding out to claim her and to introduce her to his godbrother, who is battling his way past Ginny's attempted force-feeding and Harry's inquiries, Lily clinging around his neck like a rather adorable redheaded limpet.

iii.

He goes to stay with Scorpius for the rest of the holiday, putting up with Rose's somewhat irritating company for the sake of the grand library at Malfoy Manor and for avoiding her.

It is going swimmingly, until he is disturbed one rather bland Tuesday by a voice saying "hello, stranger" and distracting him from his book.

He glances up with surprise, looking ungainly sprawled on the beanbag with his long legs out at comfortable, but not particularly elegant, angles.

"You," he says mistrustfully, pushing his hair back and scrambling to his feet, regaining some of his usual catlike grace once he is upright. He slides the book back onto its shelf and turns back to face her, his face blank and conceding nothing.

"Not pleased to see me?" she inquires with an impish grin, the cuffs of her cardigan hanging over her hands as she raises them to adjust her scruffy ponytail. "That's a pity, because I was quite looking forward to seeing you."

"What are you doing here, Chloé?" he replies tiredly, taking a step back as she takes one forward, her hair gleaming gold in the torchlight.

"My mum's here staying with Aunt Astoria, and she dragged me along. Told me I could 'play' with Scorpius, can you believe it? I swear she still thinks I'm five."

"All parents do," Al informs her, non-committal, keeping the distance between them regular even as she tries to decrease it. "Can you go away now please? I want to finish my book."

"But you put it away," she points out validly, and Al's hands clench into fists because, fuck, she's too damn irresistible for her own good – and she belongs to James, remember?

"Well I'm going to get it out again, aren't I?" he retorts childishly, reaching up to pluck the book down easily. "So you can really leave me alone now."

"Nah, I think I'll just keep you company," she says with a smile, as though this is a wonderful idea, and Al glowers as she selects a book and settles down on a beanbag opposite his. Warily, he sinks back down and opens up his book.

iv.

The next day, after they've all spent three hours splashing around in the pool and generally being teenagers, Rose and Scorpius disappear somewhere and Al is left with Chloé.

"Oh, c'mon, Al," she complains as he sits tensely on the side of the pool, legs hanging in the water as he tries to broadcast goawaygoawaygoaway vibes to her, "we've been in the same year at school for over six years now. You'd think we could at least hold a civilised conversation."

She pulls herself out of the pool to sit next to him, her body almost blue with the water's reflection, her wet skin sliding irresistibly against his.

"You're sort of difficult to hold a conversation with," he points out as his head swims, wishing she would just place a little distance in between them. "You're too distracting."

"Distracting?" she inquires, her voice taking on a warning note, and he nods and grimaces.

"Yeah. Especially… you know, in a bikini. Can't you find a towel or something?"

She's quiet for a few seconds, and he risks a glance at her, only to find her cheeks stretched out in a glorious, beautiful smile that has his insides turning to mush and his world glowing that bit brighter.

"My, my, my," she says thoughtfully, and suddenly she's pulled up a leg so she's half facing him, one leg tucked up underneath herself. "Who would have thought? Albus Potter actually displaying emotion."

He glares at her even as he's trying to pretend he's not going into mental meltdown at the feel of her leg against his thigh.

"And what emotion would that be, then?" he inquires, his voice admirably steady, and she grins at him as she leans in closer.

"It's a toss-up," she breathes, her breath hot against his mouth, "between irritation… and lust."

And then she's kissing him and any thought of morals flies out of his head at the feel of her lips on his, her hands around his neck and his flying up to her back, the erotic rustle of skin on skin echoing around the cavernous pool-room as he slants his head to deepen the kiss, one strap of her bikini gradually retreating further and further down her arm.

"Tell me to stop any time you like," she pants when he finally breaks away, his hands on her back warm and reassuring and surprisingly natural.

"Shut up," he replies irritably, and then he's pulling her back in and revelling in how good the sin of her bare skin against his feels.

v.

She's gone by the next morning, and he's not sure how he's going to live with himself.

"Well, Al, you dirty boy," Scorpius teases over breakfast, his arm around Rose's waist, "I never would have thought you had it in you."

"Thought he had what in him?" Rose inquires, her red hair wild as she yawns through her Cheerio's, fixing Al with a reproachful, if somewhat sleepy, glare.

"Why, sexing it up with his brother's girlfriend in my swimming pool, of course!" Scorpius exclaims with excitement.

For the first time in his life, Al understands why anybody would want to use the Avada Kedavra curse.

"You bastard, Scorp," he says under his breath as Rose takes in a large lungful of air and rises slowly and dangerously to her feet, leaning threateningly over the table towards her cousin.

"You did what?" she asks slowly and concisely. Al, sliding further and further down in his chair, mumbles something about a mistake and regrets, and expertly ducks the hard slap when it comes his way.

"You arsehole!" she screeches at him, and Al makes a break for it, lunging for the door and sprinting away as she gives chase, his long legs giving him an advantage. He ducks in and out of the maze of rooms and corridors, only stopping when all he can hear is his own harsh breathing.

"Potter Junior," an unfriendly voice says from right next to him, making him jump so much he lets out a yell and leaps about six feet to the side. A blonde man looking remarkably similar to Scorpius is lounging against the wall, a smirk written all over his face.

"Mr Malfoy, sir," he says nervously, trying to reclaim control of his wildly-thudding heart and also trying to pretend that this man, who he has known for about five years now, doesn't still scare the bejeezus out of him.

"Can I inquire as to why you were sprinting through my house as though the Bloody Baron is after you?"

"It's a long story," Al shrugs apologetically, and Mr Malfoy grins and claps him on the shoulder, surprising him yet again.

"I heard Miss Weasley yelling about it as she ran past my other door," he explains, his eyes amused, and he looks much more like Scorpius than Al has ever seen him look before. "Good on you."

"Um… thanks…" Al replies uncertainly, feeling almightily confused as Mr Malfoy smiles once more and shuts his study door in Al's face. Heeding the warning of distant, incensed screams, Al turns and continues jogging further into the depths of Malfoy Manor.

vi.

He floos to her house from an empty room because he has a death wish and encounters her father as he stumbles out of the fireplace, covered in soot.

"Morning, sir," he says diplomatically, regarding Mr Nott warily and brushing down his t-shirt awkwardly. "Is Chloé here?"

No sooner are the words out of his mouth than the girl herself bounds down the stairs, and Al feels his stomach twist unpleasantly.

"Oh, hi," she says casually, dropping into a seat at the kitchen table and starting to butter a piece of toast. "What are you doing here?"

"I was actually hoping we could talk," he replies warily, his gaze darting between her and her father, and she turns her face to her father and pouts slightly.

"Daddy…" she pleads, and Mr Nott sighs and folds up his newspaper.

"I'll be up in my study if anyone needs me."

She blows him a kiss as he goes, and Al takes a seat opposite her and lets his face drop into his hands.

"Why'd you do it?" he asks at length, and glances up from between splayed fingers to see her shrug.

"I dunno," she replies easily, licking some jam off her fingers. "I guess because you're so wonderfully awkward, and besides you've got such pretty eyes."

He sighs and stands, raking a hand through his unruly hair.

"Just don't tell James, alright? He doesn't need to know."

"How Slytherin of you," she comments, reaching out to grab his hand, her skin a sticky reminder against his. "Don't go. I'm sorry."

"Just forget all this ever happened, okay?" he demands, and she stands and faces him, looking impossibly vulnerable in the oversized man's shirt she's wearing.

"But I can't do that, Al," she replies softly, and then she's pulling him outside and he's full of the sound of skin on skin, hot and damp and forbidden and ohsoverypoetic.

"See?" she says, holding up her white hand to press against the pale skin of his bare chest. "We match. We're good together, Al."

"Don't talk," he begs, and as he claims her in a kiss he feels her sticky fingers on his back and revels in the symphony of her skin against his, the only music he's ever wanted to play on repeat for days and days and days.

:-:


	8. In My Arms, by Slytherin Head

_In my arms…_

_character: Severus Snape_

_By: Slytherin Head (Slytherin)_

**A/N- This will be another AU story. There will also be more chapters accompanying this so if you would like to keep on reading it then please look for it on my profile page.**

Growing up, I never had much. My father, for the first four years of my life, was a great man. He loved his wife and was there for every important event of my infancy. But later he was laid off from the shipping company, and my family barely made enough to support three people. The small job my father had gotten at the town mill was soon gone, and my father turned to the bottle and lost himself in it. After that he would work the odd job here and there, it didn't take long before no one would hire him. If he would just have listened to mum and stopped drinking, we could have made a decent living.

It didn't take long before he was spending more time at the bar than at home. If he did come home, it was because he either ran out of the little money we had or the bartender was sick and tired of seeing him all the time.

With my father out of the job and drinking all the time, my mum had to take up two jobs. One at the nearby hospital working as a cafeteria lady and another at the Leaky Cauldron. Even then it was still hard for my mum to choose what was more important; food or house bills.

When I was finally seven, I started to help my mum with the bills, much to her frustration. I figured if the dunderhead I had to call my father wasn't going to take responsibility and take care of his family and work, then I would. So, during the weekends until spring, I would shovel peoples driveways. For the most part, people would always pay me, and if they thought I did a really good job, they would give me some extra coins. Sometimes there were people who would try to cheat me out by saying that they had already paid me when they hadn't.

Since mum was always at work and Tobias was at the bar, I had no one to go to when people refused to pay me, even though they had said they would. It didn't matter though, because it taught me to stand up for myself. Soon those people saw that I wasn't some stupid kid and started paying me. By the end of the month, I had 10 pounds to my name and gave them to my mum for the bills. It wasn't much, but at least she wouldn't have to decide on whether or not it was important to pay the bills first with a little more cash now. February brought even more snow to which I was thankful, because it meant I would get paid more. Sure enough, at the end of the month, I got almost double of what I had gotten my first month. I took ten pounds for myself and hid them. They would become the ticket out of Spinner's End and away from Tobias.

I was slowly earning money and helping mum out. When spring arrived I mowed people's lawns and helped them in the gardens. I kept my savings secret, making sure that Tobias didn't know I was earning money or where I kept it. I know mum kept a saving jar around the house, too, but we had both agreed that it would be safer not to know where each of us kept our savings. One day, I found mum sitting on the kitchen floor crying. I rushed to her side, and to my immense horror I saw her left eye was swollen, and she had a split lip. She also had bruises slowly forming on her arms, and her legs had small cuts on them. Looking at the floor I saw her savings jar broken. The money was scattered all over, but I could tell quiet a lot was missing, and if the odor of alcohol was any hint, I knew who was responsible for it. Tobias.

"Mum?" She opened her eyes and looked at me. The pain I saw in them broke my heart. I didn't know what to say or do, so I just held her while she cried. We both sat in the kitchen for a good hour or so before I got up and left to get the medicine kit. While I cleaned up all of her cuts and put some healing salve on her eye, I made her tell me what had happened. I could guess for myself, but I wanted to hear it from her.

She told me that Tobias had started to gamble, and he had lost heavily in his first game. The people he had lost to where part of a small gang that was rapidly gaining power in the city. Scared that they would kill him if he didn't pay up right away, he rushed back home and demand that my mum gave him all the money we had. When she refused he struck her and began ransacking the house until he found her saving jar. She tried to take it away from him, and he smacked her again and ended up dropping the jar. That's how she had gotten all the cuts, when he smacked her she had fallen on top of the broken pieces. He didn't bother checking on her and just grabbed whatever money he could.

As I helped my mum clean the kitchen and the rest of the house, I couldn't help but wish with all my heart that he hadn't taken enough to pay up. They'll beat him up and maybe it'll be enough for him to stop drinking and go back to the man he used to be. But I highly doubt that will ever happen.


	9. Lace, By Ariana Ethaitrius

_Lace_

_character: Blaise Zabini_

_By:_

_Ariana Ethaitrius (Hufflepuff)_

*Disclaimer:* I do not own the Harry Potter universe, but the plot is mine.

Snow. Why did it have to snow? He walked through Hogsmeade and his thoughts were swirling in his head Just as the snow was swirling around  
him.

Blaise hated snow, there was no point denying that fact, it was wet and cold and he never saw the fascination with it.

He stopped at Eyelops to get some food for his owl Mordred, his only friend and companion. As he walked through the practically deserted shop eyes of every possible colour stared down at him. He noticed, as always, that the sleepy hooting of the owls comforted him for some strange reason. He grabbed the food quickly.

As Blaise stopped to pay, a figure knocked into him.

"Watch where you are going!" He was not in a pleasant mood, and it only got worse after he noticed the person who knocked into him had also managed to knock his package of owl treats for Mordred to the floor.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the voice said and Blaise was disgusted to see it was a girl. A girl had knocked him aside, like they always did, like he wasn't worth their time.

Blaise bent down to pick up the package of owl treats and he heard his "attacker" (well, she had bumped into him) again, "I am really sorry Blaise, I didn't see you there."

The fact that she knew his name startled him/. How did she know his name?/ He didn't want to know the answer to that question; for he did not care.

"Don't worry about it," he murmured, as he turned to leave. For some reason she followed him, so he closed the door behind himself, leaving the girl to wrestle with the door in the biting wind (hey, he was a Slytherin).

"It's a lovely day, is it not?" she asked, walking up to him/. Did she not know what being alone was like?/

"If you say so." Blaise walked quicker, trying to get rid of her, but she was keeping up with his every movement. How she could call this (and he glared around at the snow as they walked) a "beautiful" day, he did not know.

They trudged through the snow to the Three Broomsticks where she sat, uninvited across from him.

"I really am sorry," she said, brushing snow from her cloak. Blaise shrugged and she looked away, as if to hide her expression.

"Would you allow me to get you a drink?" she politely enquired moments later, with a smile planted on her lips.

Blaise sighed, she definitely wasn't going to give up, "Fine."

She stood and walked over to the bar and she got a butter beer for him and another one for herself. Truthfully, he loved the stuff, but he wasn't going to mention that to this girl, whoever /she /was. He had seen her before, but he just couldn't remember her name.

They sat and talked and she told him of how her parents wanted her to go home, with her twin sister, for it "would be safer and we will know that you are protected," she said, imitating her parents.

"Do they not know," she said, pausing, her eyes closing for a moment, "that Hogwarts is the safest place in the Wizarding and probably Muggle world there is?" she asked, but Blaise was unsure if this fact was true. Whatever she might think of Albus Dumbledore, he thought him to be an old fool with no real idea of what the danger was that they faced.

"I don't want to leave school," she went on, taking a sip from her drink. "My friends are here, my classes," Blaise wondered why in the world a girl like her would miss classes, "I just don't want to leave."

A huge tear fell from her eye and onto her hand that rested upon the table. She looked at the tear and she sighed.

"I'm sorry," she said and wordlessly, Blaise conjured a lace handkerchief and he handed it to her. Their hands brushed against one another and he felt something pass through him, that he had never felt before. Whatever it was, he liked the feeling.

"I must go," she said, standing up.

"Wait," Blaise said, standing up also, "what is your name?" he asked, feeling really stupid, after all, she knew his.

"I am Parvati, Blaise." With that, Parvati stood up leaving him alone once more.

The next day an owl returned his handkerchief, a simple note attached/. 'Thank you.'/

He passed his hands through the handkerchief's lace, raising it to his  
face for some absurd reason. It smelled like lavender. /Did she smell  
like lavender?/ He would have to find out. Maybe he wouldn't be so alone  
anymore.


	10. Candlelight, by Georgia

_candle light_

_character: Teddy Lupin_

_By:_

_xoxotruegryffindorxoxo __(Georgia - Gryffindor)_

I needed to get away. I couldn't be with her anymore, not when I didn't love her. I took one last look at my wife, who was incidentally crying at what I had just said.

"What are you doing?" she said while I pulled my clothes out of the wardrobe. I threw them on to the bed and pulled out my wand. I waved it so that all the clothes packed the selves into a suitcase I had got down earlier.

"I just need to get away. I can't be with you anymore. Not when I think your cheating" I said as I realised that I needed to admit that I loved someone else. I had always known who I had loved but I couldn't let her get away again. I closed the lid and made my way down stairs. We had just had a fight and somewhere in the middle of it I realised I didn't love her anymore.

"I've told you. I'm. Not. Cheating." she shouted, her voice cracking as the tears started running down her flawless skin.

"I don't believe you" I answered honestly.

"What?" The pain replaced with anger. I turned around and I saw the tears suddenly stop. "Why not?"

"Someone told me otherwise and I believe them." I whispered, shaking my head. The tears came back twenty times worse than before.

"We have been together 7 years. Why don't you believe me?" she angrily, while coming closer to me.

"Because they showed me this." I said pulling out a picture from my back pocket. I handed her the photo and I turned round leaving her alone to think about the picture. The picture was of her and a boy around her age. I didn't recognise him they were holding hands and she was gazing into his eyes. Now you try and tell me that doesn't look suspicious.

"This proves nothing. You can't let this affect us. It was probably taken by someone who doesn't like their sad, pathetic life and has to mess with others to make themselves feel better." She said throwing the picture away. I bent down to pick up the photo and I tucked it into my back pocket.

"It doesn't matter who took it. It looks like your cheating on me and I'm not happy with that."

Not when you don't love her anymore, I thought to myself. This was just the icing on the cake. This just made me leave her. If this hadn't come out then I would have found another way to go. I just needed to know that what I felt was feel.

"But I'm not. Please you can't leave me!" she pleaded.

"I'm sorry, but this" I said pointing to and from us "is over. I can't carry on leading a lie. And besides I have to go see someone." I said heading for the door. Suddenly, just before I reached the door, I slowly reached out for her right hand which she all so happily gave me. I ran my fingers over all her fingers until I reached the right one. I then, ever so slowly, pulled off the glistening ring which I had given her 7 months before.

"I'm sorry!" I whispered, closing the door behind me.

I pulled myself back to the present time. I had to get away now before she made me stay. I took one last look at our house before I spun around, trying to get away from all the painful memories.

My insides churned. Man I hate apparating. I hadn't pictured a place so I had no idea where I would end up. I suddenly felt my feet hit the soft ground just as I lurched forward. It was pitch black, so I cast lumos. I brought my wand up to eye level to see where I was. I instantly recognised it as mine and my best friend's little hideout from when we were younger. I quickly walked towards the hollow tree where we used to sit for hours just talking. I really missed those days. She hated me now though, and I mean really hated me, ever since I had asked my 'girlfriend' to marry me. I quickly found the old candle that we used to light the tree with when it got dark. I lit the old candle with the end of my wand and looked around the worn out tree. Then something caught my eyes. A Purple note book next to the wall. I reached over and gripped it hard while I brought it over to where I sat. I quickly opened up the front page and read the words on it.

Do not read, or you will suffer from one hell of a bat bogy hex.

I knew I shouldn't read but curiosity crept through me. I turned over the page and read what it said.

7th June.

I hate him. I hate him. How could he do this to me? I mean I love him. I always have and he hasn't even realised, instead he has just asked that cow to marry him. Mum guessed when I got home and told her the 'news' I guess it wasn't hard, with the fact that I burst in to tears when I told her. She had never really gotton on with her very well. Mum always said she was too much like my mum's sister in law.

I flipped a few more pages until I saw something that caught my eye.

OMG. I have just caught that bitch snogging Michael Jordan. She is engaged to the love of my life and she is just going to throw him around like he is just some shit she found. Oh no victorie Weasley. You did NOT just mess with me!

My breath caught in my throat. I wasn't imagining things when I saw that photo and said I thought she was cheating earlier. She had made out that I was the bad guy but it was her all along. It then took me several seconds for my mind to click about what lily had wrote earlier,

The love of my life

I love him. I always have

She had always loved me. Just like I had but I just could admit it until now. It still hadn't sunk in. she had always loved me.

When she had been days old.

When she asked me to play with her when she was 5.

When she was 7 and asked me if I would marry her when she was older while we were sitting in our hideout.

When she had broken up with her 1st boyfriend because he felt she just didn't love him enough.

All this time, the whole of her short life, she had loved me. And I had loved her; I had just been too scared to admit it. I pulled myself out from the tree and I ran. I ran as fast as I could to her house. Even though she was 21 years old she still lived with her parents. Once I had got to the door I pulled out a key and I carefully made my way to the room where I knew she would be. I saw her asleep in her bead. I carefully made my way next to her and I kneeled down next to her. I moved her bright red hair away from her eyes and stared. She looked to peaceful as she slept. All of a sudden her eyes began to move.

"Teddy? Is that you?" she asked sleepily.

"Yeah." I replied, pulling her close.

"Why are you here?"

"I need to tell you something!" I said while stroking her hair.

"Go on"

"I love you" I told her as I bent down and kissed her.

"I love you too." She said replying to the kiss. She moved over to allow enough room for me to lie next to her. I lifted her head and she lied it down on my chest, as we both let the sleep take us to the rest of our lives.

Candle light. The best way to see. It blocks out all the pain from your past. It only lets you see the future. And it makes you realise the best things in life. If I hadn't of seen that diary 69 years ago then I would never have gained the courage to tell my god sister that I love her.


	11. And We Cried, by Kara

_And We Cried_

_Character: Ginny Weasley _

_Prompt: Death_

_By: _

_Love From A Muggle (Kara - Hufflepuff)_

We walked slowly to the grave of my brother. The leaves of orange, brown and red swayed in the wind. We stared at the name. Hermione sat sobbing, while I bent down and traced his name with my finger. We still couldn't believe he had been gone for over a year now. I remembered my last conversation with Fred. It had been about Harry. I remembered it well as I stared into the changing colours of leaves..

_Fred had seen our dad yell at me and order me to stay here. Fred sensed I was upset and came over to comfort me._

"_Ginny, stay here," Dad, ordered me He didn't want me going through the Great Hall and fighting in the war. But I wanted to fight. I looked at Harry, and Harry nodded in agreement with my father. Fred saw my face, told the others to go on and he'd catch up. He pulled me aside, away from the others._

"_Gin, he's only doing this to protect you. He doesn't want anything to happen to you," Fred said calmly._

"_But, I want to fight. Merlin's beard, Fred, I'm old enough," I stated in a firm voice. _

"_I know, Gin. But, he still loves you. I overheard Harry talking to Ron before they left. He doesn't want you to die," Fred stated. _

"_He still loves me? I'm not going to die," I said._

"_How do you know that? Any one of us could die fighting for freedom. A great honour that would be, but an even greater sorrow for families. As soon as the last student is gone I want you to go and stay at the Hogshead." Fred said. "Look, I have to go now, they need me," Fred gave me a quick hug and took off. _

The rustle of the wind against the trees brought me back to the present. To where the fallen heroes of the Second War were laid to rest.

"I'm sorry I broke my promise. I'm sorry I went and fought, and didn't stay like you told me to," I said out loud, crying. Hermione took me by the shoulders and I sat down.

"Ginny, it's okay, I'm sure he knew that there was no stopping you. And if he was here then he would have told you that there was nothing to forgive." Hermione said softly through her tears.

"I can't get how bad Fred's body looked out of my head. No matter how much I try. It's there when I close my eyes at night. I sometimes hear Mum crying down the hall. We can't do anything for her. Not even Dad. He's tried cheering her up, but he'll just start crying too," I said. I stopped crying long enough to notice a red robin sitting on Fred's grave.

"There is still hope," I said softly. Hermione looked at me confused, and then looked at the bird.

"What do you mean?"

"Colin told me that a robin is a symbol for hope. The robin is also a symbol for happiness," I said.

"_Ginny, look, there's a robin in the trees of the Forbidden Forrest," Colin said to me as we walked from Care Of Magical Creatures to Herbology. Colin and I often walked together. He was my best friend aside from Hermione. _

"_How do you know this?" I asked him staring at the bird that sat in the distance. _

"_My father's a bird watcher," Colin said._

"_I thought he was a postman?" Colin laughed._

"_He is, but as a hobby he watches birds and writes down what he sees. He goes to meetings about birds. He writes to me telling me what birds he sees. That's when he told me if I ever saw a robin, it meant there is always hope. And there will be happiness in the future," Colin said. _

"So, a Robin is a symbol of hope?" Hermione said bringing me back from my thoughts.

"Yes. It means that even during time of trouble, there's room for hope. Robins have been my favorite bird since then," I said truthfully.

"What else does a robin mean?" Hermione asked me.

"A new beginning," Hermione nodded. I didn't need to explain that one. It was self explanatory.

I stood up, moved a few rows to where Colin's gravestone stood and sat down. I started crying again, for I remembered seeing Colin's body in the line with the others. It pains me to think that my best friend is gone, and my brother are gone, but I know there is still hope. Hermione followed me. I turned back to look at the robin on Fred's grave, but the robin **it **had left. Hermione put her arms round me and we cried together. We cried for hope, we cried for love, we cried for those who died to fight for freedom, and we cried.


	12. Shadow, by Tat

_Shadow_

_Character: Lysander Scamander_

_By: tat1312 (Tat - Ravenclaw)_

_Thank you Vanity Sinning for the help and the beta-reading :)_

Lysander has always been in the shadow of his twin was born at 11:58 pm on June the 25th and Lysander was born at 00:13 the day after so Lysander's birthday had always been put in the shade of Lorcan's. When it wasn't because they were celebrating their birthday together, it was because Lysander's was a day after and people forgot about it, or whatever.

.

Lysander is the perfect copy of his father, except his hair, he has his mother's hair. When people meet him in Diagon Alley, it's "look, its Rolf's kid, no doubt about it." But when people see Lorcan it's different, "such gorgeous eyes you have Lorcan!" Because Lorcan has inherited his great grandmother bright green eyes, and no one can relate to her. So it's Lorcan, the twin with the gorgeous eyes when he only Lysander, Rolf's kid.

.

At Hogwarts, both are sorted in Ravenclaw. And still there he can't outshine Lorcan. They are the Scamander twins, so alike, both Ravenclaws, except Lorcan has the better grades.

.

He'd like to be the one in the spotlights for once, but no, Lorcan takes everything from him, maybe Lorcan doesn't mean it but it happens regardless. And it bothers him deeply; he never minded sharing, but only when its food, or toys, or clothes. Not when it comes to glory, he wants his piece of that pie. Okay, he is not the captain of the Quidditchteam like Lorcan is, but he is the bloody keeper; the one who stops all the Quaffles. So why is Lorcan named better Quidditch player of the season?

.

Of course during their seventh year, Lorcan has been named Head Boy and Lysander continued to live in the shadow if his brother. His twin is his rival, Lorcan is still outshininghim and it bothers Lysander more and more as the days go on.

.

"Why aren't you inside celebrating with your brother?" Albus asked Lysander, Lysander is sitting outside his own house where a 'congratulations Lorcan' party is being held.

"I'm good here," Lysander answers trying to smile.

"Shoot."

"What?"

"Well, there is something bothering you obviously, so shoot, you can tell me Lysander."

Only a few people actually call them by his name, and it's a shame because Lysander loves his name, it's original. Unlike any people have ever heard.

So maybe it's because Albus used his name and not Scamander like most of people do, but the blond boy starts telling his friend how he feels: he is in his brother's shadow and really, he doesn't fancy being inside at the moment.

"I've been made Captain of the Chess club you know," the blond says to his friend. "But no one cares, and I mean, it's just a Chess Club but it's as important to me as Lorcan being Headboy."

"Congrats!" Albus exclaims, "I didn't know that! But why don't you just celebrate it with Lorcan being made Headboy?"

"We always celebrate everything together. Even our birthdays, and they are one day apart."

"I thought you were twins." Albus is puzzled by this new piece of information. "You always celebrated your birthday together, June the 25th if I remember correctly."

"We are twins, but I was born the 26th." Lysander tone is neither angry nor jealous, he's stating a fact and Albus understands.

"You know, when you say you are in your brothers shadow, I understand. I can relate to it in a way. I'm named after two great wizards, have the identical looks of my father, and I havethe same spot at Quidditch as my godfather, plus I have the same birthmark as my uncle Charlie. That's what people see in me."

"And it doesn't bother you?"

"Of course it does. But I know who I am, and I've learned to deal with it. You should do the same. And anyway, I know I'm the best when it comes to Exploding snaps," Albus chuckles. "No one can take that away from me, and you know, no one can surpass you at Chess or as a Keeper. Damn, you are a better keeper than my brother is," he adds. "That bloodystop you made at the Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin game was impressive, it should have been you who got better player of the season."

"Thank you, Al." It warms Lysander a little, to see that people pay attention to him.

"You're welcome Lys. And I mean it." They fell quiet for a moment.

The silence between the two of them is starting to be a little uncomfortable so the raven-haired boy stands up and offers a hand to the blond, who still sits silently on the floor.

"Come on, we'll find something in the kitchen to properly celebrate your Captain of the Chess club badge."

"I don't even have a badge." Lysander laughs.

"Well, we could make one easily," replies the other boy.

The two boys walk toward the kitchen and sit on the counter after grabbing two cakes from the cupboard.

"You know what I like the most at your house Lys? There's always these delicious cakes in the cupboards," Albus says, his mouth full of chocolate cake. Lysander laughs at him.

"I'm the one who makes them," he explains.

"And how can you possibly be overshadowed by your brother when you can bake heaven?" Albus exclaims. "You are without doubt my favourite Scamander!"

Lysander laughs at his friend, it's just a joke but it feels good, maybe as good as the arm Albus throws around his shoulders.

"You know what," says Lysander. "We should head in the living-room to find some punch to accompany my fabulous cakes."

"Yeah, we can't properly celebrate you being the new Chess Club's captain without a good drink." Albus agrees.

And Lysander doesn't mind entering the party now, just like he doesn't mind Albus' hand still on his shoulder.

"I don't understand all this excitement, and all because Lorcan is Headboy, my uncle Percy was a headboy. You, on the other hand, have been made Captain of the Chess Club, which is way cooler."

So Lysander is still in the shadow of his brother, but it's okay because at least one person prefers him to Lorcan. And he couldn't ask for more.

"Al," Lysander asks tentatively.

"Yep?"

"You know, I need some training after this summer. I mean Keeper's training that is..."

"I can pass by here tomorrow? If it's good with you." Albus' tone is eager.

"Perfect."


	13. Path, by Leesha

_Path_

_Character: Draco Malfoy_

_By: Vanity Sinning (Leesha - Slytherin)_

"_**take a number, stand in line." – Survive, Rise Against**_

He's fucked up. It's the only words to describe him - or so he thinks. He doesn't know how or why and that's what drives him mad. He just doesn't know. Yet he's survived. Not because he's been good at anything he's done or because he knew how to, no, that's not it. The reason why Draco Malfoy has survived this long is because he got lucky.

Plain and simple.

So this path is long and hard, so he has to put on this big charade, so he has to wear this mask. What's different? All his life he's been told that status is everything, that one day he will realize that his destiny is the path his father once followed. But he doesn't want that! He doesn't want to be King of the Slytherins, he doesn't want to become a Death Eater, he doesn't want to marry someone he knows nothing about and hasn't even met yet.

But this is the path his father treaded and so this shall be his path. Draco is the King of his fellow Slytherins, crown and all. He becomes a Death Eater proud and all, and when Astoria Greengrass finishes her 7th year at Hogwarts he shall be married and all.

So the simple question becomes how long? The war rages on and still he sits here, locked up in this hell of a school. How much longer must his charade go on? How much longer before the Dark Lord wins this battle? How much longer can he pretend to follow this path? How much longer will he have to?

He marches around this god-forsaken place like the King he is, his crown high on his head, the signature Slytherin sneer placed on his lips. He's perfected this act. Crabb and Goyle do what ever the fuck he says; Pansy Parkinson follows him around like some lovesick fool. And everyone else is scared of him.

They know he bears the mark, so they stay out of his way and they bow down to him. Those who don't are taught a lesson, are taught to respect him. He mercilessly tortures the half-breed first years as part of the new Muggle Studies curriculum. He shoots curses at those who have always hated him in the halls. Draco Malfoy is the perfect Slytherin and no one and nothing can say otherwise.

But underneath this veil of evil and perfection is a boy, not a man but a boy. A scared, alone, hopeless boy who can't even muster enough courage to say no to anything he's been told. So he sits in bathrooms to escape all the pressure, and memories of last year often temp him into hating him-self and what he has become. Yet through it all he must always remember he is perfect.

And as if all this isn't bad enough the Carrow's push him around, they tell him what to do and insult his father as if they were in control of this castle. But Draco isn't stupid. He bites his tongue and chooses his words wisely when he speaks to them because he knows he cannot make one single mistake.

But that doesn't stop the anger always bubbling near the surface. He punches mirrors because he hates his own damn fucking reflection, he has to use glamour charms to make the bags under his eyes seem non existent, he picks at the food on his plate every single meal, and every time he hears that damn snake slither his whole body tenses up and he goes rigid with fear, he has to watch as his father be disgraced, he has to watch his mother grow thin and frail, so he has to watch slowly, as he's left alone.

What does it matter?

Who gives a damn?

Where will this bloody path lead?

And then he remembers what they're fighting for, he remembers the pureblood traits he possesses, he remembers the crown he holds, the power that this crown gives him, and maybe, just maybe he's okay.

But it doesn't fill the hole consuming him - nothing ever does anymore. And as he stares at all the other students who just like him, are searching for something to hold onto in this bloody world, he realizes that he isn't special after all. Everyone is a charade of fear and uncertainty, of hopelessness and lose. Everyone is out to survive through these dark times, and everyone is desperate and alone.

So yes he has the crown and the power, yes he has the mark that will cause his down fall, yes Crabb and Goyle act as the faithful idiot lackeys while Pansy Parkinson is the lovesick halfwit, yes everyone is scared of him and yes he will have to marry Greengrass.

And yes life for him has been less then kind but now Draco knows that in the end he must take a number and stand in line. Because maybe he isn't as fucked up as he thought and maybe just maybe Draco Malfoy will make it out alive.


	14. Holding up the Sky, by Lucy

**_Holding up the sky_**

_Prompt: oranges_

_Character: Gabrielle Delacour_

_by_

_ThePandorica (Lucy - Hufflepuff) _

_-:-_

Her family had once had an orange grove in their back garden.

The air used to be filled with the scent of orange blossom and the oranges themselves used to glow like little balls of orange light amongst the leaves. But that was a long time ago, now so _farfar_ away: something that now seems part of a fairy-tale. It had seemed safe, that orange grove, but now she sees how naïve she had been. During that War _nowhere_ had been safe, and her point had been proved when her family returned home one night to find that their house had been burnt to the ground. She'd run, screaming into the orange grove to find that all that was left of her fairy-tale place were blackened, gnarled stumps of something that had once seemed so beautiful. So _safe. _

That night, she'd cried for the orange trees and nothing else. What had her safe haven, the trees, the _fruit_ done to hurt anyone else?

-:-

The air smelt of oranges that night. It's one of the only things she can remember, but it's also one of the strangest things she'll never forget. Of course, Gabrielle knew that there were many types of orange: caramel orange, blood orange, mandarin oranges – or the oranges that look just plain _orange_ – so it was difficult to pinpoint the exact smell to a branch of the citrus fruit. Yet at that precise moment in time, she wasn't really concerned with distinguishing orange types. Instead, she was trying to run away as fast as she could, away from the hulking figures in robes as black as ink and with scary silver masks on their face.

She'd only been eleven at the time - a time when the parts of the world were still strange and foreign to her and the farthest place from home seemed to be England. She hadn't been ready for something like this to happen, as everything she knew slowly crumbled around her and tears tracked themselves down her face and dripped into the dry ground beneath her. She remembers thinking that the earth had seemed too barren, and so utterly devoid of _life. _That night, she thinks of her orange trees and how utterly defenceless they'd been.

-:-

When she grew older however, she'd learnt one more thing about that strange citrus fruit. She, Gabrielle Delacour, had developed a phobia of oranges. Wizard physiatrists could not source the problem as to why, but she knew exactly why. It went without saying, many witches and wizards had developed irrational fears and phobias after the war, but none as strange as hers. The fruit itself was fine. The pulpy flesh or sour tang of the juice as it hit her tongue did not frighten her. Nor did it when it was cut into segments and place onto a plate in front of her. Even the colour didn't scare her. The only thing that she feared was the _smell. _

She'd tried explaining that to the various physiatrists her parents and sister sent her to, but they just didn't seem to understand her. After all, why fear the smell of the orange when she could eat it perfectly well? It just didn't make sense. But in some ways it did. When Gabrielle could not see the orange, it was _then_ that her phobia set in. She'd shake, cry and try to stop breathing so that the ghastly, frightful scent would miraculously evaporate from her senses. The smell was a trigger that brought back memories that were still as painful as a fresh, open wound.

-:-

When she turned twelve, almost six months after the war had finished, she'd planted an orange tree next to one of the many the war memorials scattered around England. It was her way of saying goodbye to all the people – for she refused to only see them as names etched on a stone tablet – and giving them a safe haven, like her orange grove had been to her. In her view, an orange drew parallel with a lily. It signified loss and death, but where a lily failed the orange prevailed. It grew and then decayed and then, eventually, died in the ground only to be reborn again: a perfect circle.

She visited the same memorial whenever she could, touching the leaves and – when there was – the orange fruit hanging on the verdant leaves. The smell didn't bother her much anymore. She just hoped that the people on the memorial had liked oranges.


	15. Peace, by Tia

_Peace_

_Character: Lavender Brown_

_By_

_MrsRemusJohnLupin (Tia - Hufflepuff)_

Before the war, every aspect of Lavender's life was simple. Nothing was complicated and harmony was given in extravagant amounts. She would go through the same routine every day; speak with the same people, gossip, try out new hairstyles and/or make-up ideas, flirt with boys, and everything else any typical teenage girl would do.

After the war, however, all of that changed.

She could not find peace anywhere.

It was not behind the clothes which she used to find refuge in. It was not behind the different colours of eye shadow or blush that she would create. It was not behind the many hairstyles she attempted to make.

Several failed attempts of searching and she gave up all hope of ever finding it again.

The first time she found peace was when she took a trip to the beach.

One day she had just decided to get out of her house and go do something that she normally would not get to do. So, she threw on some clothes over her new, unused swimwear and Apparated to an abandoned beach that her mother had once taken her to.

Lavender laid down in the sand, no towel required. Her feet dug into the hot sand and were relieved in the coolness hidden underneath. She sighed as her eyes closed under her sunglasses and she put her arms behind her head. For awhile she thought of what was behind her; the rocks and small sand dunes that made this beach secluded from anyone else. But, soon the only thing occupying her mind was the sound of the waves lapping against the shore.

It was the first time since Lavender was told she would change into a wolf every full moon that she fell asleep without magic to help her.

Although her faith had been restored in finding what she had stopped searching for, it was long before it was discovered a second time.

She was in a shopping mall near her one-bedroom apartment, drifting among some her of favourite clothing stores. Just when she was about to leave with her arms empty of any bags, Lavender paused to kneel down and tie her shoe.

It was then that she saw the young lady's wad of Muggle cash fall from her back pocket. The lady, no more than twenty-five, had one arm full of shopping bags while the other was clutching a tiny boy's hand. She continued walking, oblivious to the loss of money.

Before Lavender could do anything but contemplate the lady not noticing, a man with a balding spot on the back of his head had snatched the money off of the ground. Lavender finished tying her shoe in a hurry, not knowing what she would do, exactly, but knowing that she needed to try and get that money to that girl.

Some people had gotten in front of her, blocking her vision. But, as she stood, she watched as the balding bloke touched the young lady on the arm. He was smiling as he placed the money back into her rightful hands. Then he turned around, put his hands into his pockets, and continued the way he had come from.

There was a fluttering in her stomach, and her face broke out into a huge smile. She lifted a hand to cover her lips, not used to showing her teeth.

So, she stood in the middle of the mall for another minute, grinning like an idiot, before she decided to try one more store.

The third time was not much longer after the second.

She had just gotten home from running around the block when an owl that was not hers swooped through the almost-always open window. Reaching for the envelope that was tied to it's foot, Lavender cocked her head to the side. Then, the owl nibbled at her fingers, so she stuck her arm out, and it climbed on.

Her fingers found the feathers and she stroked it with care as she walked toward her owl's empty cage. Inside was water and food. As soon as she put her arm towards the cage, the brown owl stepped into it.

Giving a small smile towards the bird, Lavender opened the envelope and began to read the letter inside.

_Dear Lavender,_

How have you been, love? I sure have missed you. Have not seen or heard from you in quite some time, and I am worried. Your presence and laughter are something I need every day to survive, so I am alive on only the memory of them.

Send me a letter back, yes? You, me, and pizza on Saturday. Say, around one? Our favourite place.

Yours,

Seamus F

It had been so long since she had heard from any of her friends. Family always sent a stream of mail back and forth, most of which she ignored. Everyone else gave up trying to stay connected to her when she refused to reply to any letters that they sent. But, this was the one she had been waiting for.

A smile broke out on her face as she scribbled a note on the back of the letter.

_I'll be there._

Standing there, staring at the empty building that had once been the best place to eat, Lavender adjusted the strap of her purse to better fit her shoulder.

The vacant emptiness was so obvious. When she looked around, it seemed as if the other people were going out of their way just to avoid it.

"It happened during the war," the sudden voice broke Lavender out of her thoughts and she jumped a bit. When she turned to face him, Seamus's eyes were on her. "They had to shut it down."

She just nodded, almost frozen by the sight of him. During their last year at Hogwarts they had grown close. He was always there to hold her when she cried, to talk with her about the possible future if the war was lost, and to just be with her when she could not stand being alone.

"You must not have been here for awhile."

Lavender shook her head.

"Or anywhere," he reached out a hand and ran his fingertips over her jaw. She suppressed a shiver. "You need to stop avoiding everyone. And everywhere. Walk with me?" he held out a hand for Lavender to take.

So, she did.

When she had spotted the run-down building that had housed her favourite place to eat, Lavender had wondered how it had gotten so far. How she had avoided everyone she had cared about and all the places she used to love. Her daily routine now included hiding away in her apartment, ignoring letters, and keeping to herself.

As she held Seamus's hand and watched the sun set over the tops of buildings in London, she realized that she did not need her old things for happiness. All she would need was what she had. People who would not mind that she was a hideous monster, places to go that kept her calm.

Most of all, she would need Seamus in her life to keep her sane. His smile, his laugh, and his charming accent were all a part of what made him great. There was something else about him too, and she was not sure what it was, that made her feel at ease with the world.

"Seamus?"

"Hmm?" he turned his head to face her, golden light illuminating half his face.

"I haven't experienced this kind of peace in a long time. Thank you for that."

His returning grin was enough to brighten her life.


	16. Mirror Image, by Katy

_Mirror Image_

_Prompt: Identical_

_Character: Charlie Weasley_

_by _

_Bad Mum (Katy - Ravenclaw)_

"Char'ie!" George said urgently. "Char'ie!"

Charlie sighed and looked up from the Quidditch annual he was reading. The two boys were upstairs in their parents' bedroom, avoiding the monumental row that was going on downstairs. Percy had managed to fall into a sea of mud in the orchard, while Bill was supposed to be watching him and the twins, and Bill's attempts to rescue him had resulted in both of them – and somehow one of the twins as well – becoming completely plastered in thick sticky mud. Their mother was not impressed, and was letting Bill have the sharp edge of her tongue. Her shouting, Percy's crying, Bill's increasingly frantic pleas that it really wasn't his fault and baby Ron's yells meant that the kitchen was not a pleasant place to be right now. Charlie and the unmuddy twin had beaten a hasty retreat upstairs to get away from the noise.

"What?" Charlie demanded now. "I'm busy, George."

"Not George, me Fred," the younger boy insisted automatically, but Charlie was not to be fooled.

"No, you're not," he replied, shaking his head and sounding as stern as a seven-year-old could. "You're George. You don't get _me_ that easily. You should have learnt that by now. What's up?"

"Fred," his brother said, pointing at the long mirror on the wardrobe door.

Charlie sighed again, shut his book reluctantly, and stood up and walked over to where his brother was standing in front of the mirror.

"I told you," he said. "I know who you are. You're George, not Fred. You might get Mummy and Daddy and Bill and Perce like that, but you don't fool me."

It was perfectly true. At two, the twins had recently discovered the fun to be had by pretending to be each other, and had become very adept in a very short time at tricking most of their family. It infuriated their mother and Bill, amused their father, and confused poor little Percy. But they had never yet managed to fool Charlie, and they both knew it. Charlie didn't understand why George was being so obstinate about it now.

Now George shook his head and stamped his foot at his brother. "No, no, Char'ie!" he insisted. "Me George, but _that_ Fred!" He pointed at the reflection in the mirror. "Fred!" he repeated. "How he get there?"

Suddenly, Charlie understood, and burst into laughter, only managing to stop himself when he realised that his brother was on the verge of tears. With their mother in her current mood, he did not want to be blamed for upsetting George, and end up on the receiving end of her wrath like poor Bill. So he stifled his laughter and knelt down beside the younger boy, putting an arm round his shoulders.

"You think that's Fred in the mirror?" he asked quietly.

George nodded, tears sparkling in his eyes. "Fred!" he repeated. "How he get in there? Get him out, Char'ie!"

"Calm down, George, calm down," Charlie said. "It's not Fred in there, it's you. It's George. Look, George, look!"

He pointed at his own reflection next to George's in the mirror. "Look, George," he said. "Look! There's Charlie there too now!"

George looked from his brother to the mirror in increasing confusion. "You in there?" he said. "But you here. You here, Char'ie!"

Charlie sighed. He had realised before now that explaining things at a two-year old level was not one of his strong points. But he had to try, before George started crying in earnest and brought their mother upstairs to see what was going on.

"Look, George," he said, waving to his own reflection in the mirror. "When I wave, Charlie in the mirror waves too. It's a reflection."

"Fection?" George asked dubiously. "What's fection?"

"Like a copy of you in the glass," Charlie said. "Look, George, you wave at it." He waved at the mirror as he spoke and, still looking doubtful, George waved too, his expression turning to one of astonishment and then delight as the boy in the mirror waved back.

"He wave!" he cried. "He wave too, Char'ie. He wave at us!"

Charlie grinned at the look on George's face. "That's you, Georgie," he said. "He waved because you waved. It's you in there, not Fred. It's your reflection."

"Fection," George repeated slowly, a look of dawning comprehension in his eyes. "Fred have fection too, Char'ie? And Mummy? And Daddy an' Bill an' Percy an' Ronnie? All have fections?"

Charlie laughed and nodded. "Yes, George, everyone has a reflection if they look in a mirror," he said.

George frowned, obviously thinking this over. He put out a hand to his own reflection, touching the glass of the mirror. "It look like Fred," he pointed out worriedly. "Why it look like Fred, Char'ie?"

Charlie sighed. He _really_ was no good at this. "It looks like Fred, because _you_ look like Fred," he said as patiently as he could manage. "You're twins, identical twins. So your reflection looks like Fred."

George screwed up his face, obviously working this out. He pointed at the mirror again. "That George?" he asked, and Charlie nodded. "He look like Fred because me look like Fred?"

Charlie nodded again. "That's it Georgie," he said. "You got it!"

George smiled, and Charlie heaved a sigh of relief. Perhaps he might be able to get back to his Quidditch story now.

But George was not quite finished. "Char'ie?" he asked. "What's dentical mean?"

Charlie could hear his mother and Bill coming up the stairs, his mother still holding forth to Bill about his carelessness and irresponsibility. He thought he had done more than his share of explaining things this morning.

"Ask Mummy," he told George firmly, as he picked up his book. "She'll tell you."


	17. satin, by Alex

_satin_

_character: Pansy Parkinson_

_By_

_bittersweet cupcakes4 (Alex – Hufflepuff)_

I remember when the war ended and two groups of friends joined together. Theodore, Draco, Daphne, Blaise, Astoria and I all became friends with Luna, Neville, Harry, Hermione and most of the Weasley family.

I don't really remember how we all became friends, it was almost like we bonded from the terrors we shared in the war.

I remember when we ended up going to a place called Satin Place. I remember how most of us split up into couples when we went to the opening. Draco with Astoria, Luna with Ron, Neville with Ginny, Harry with Daphne and Hermione with Viktor. Theo, Blaise, and I though went by ourselves.

The Satin Place was especially designed for young witches and wizards, allowing them to relax, enjoy a dinner, and even dance most of the night away. When we all walked through those doors for the first time it was absolutely beautiful. The room was full of color from red curtains to the pristine white tablecloths.

What I remembered the most about The Satin Place, though, was that was the night me and Theo became a couple. That night he had given me a crimson red, satin rose and beautiful blue, satin shoes. They had been his birthday gift to me because he knew how much I loved satin.

It was the perfect gift for me, and he knew it.

I also remember a time when I found Cho Chang annoying, I also remember when Cedric Diggory died. That was the first time I ever remember feeling sorry for Cho.

I remember when I stopped feeling sorry for her, it was my and Theo's third year of dating and we broke up. Cho stole him from me, and that pity I had for her turned to hate.

Since that day I hated everything satin. Well, almost everything, I still cherished the satin rose and shoes he gave me.

Yet, Satin was the new silk. It was the newest and latest fashion, just to spite me. There had been a time when I loved satin, but now I despise it with every fiber of my being. It's texture, it's appearance. Even all the different colors from red to blue made me want to gag!

In its own sick way it made sense that the woman who ruined my life made satin the theme for her wedding and reception satin. It was absolutely the worst.

"Pansy!" I could hear someone calling my name from the room across the hall. As I entered it I saw Hermione's face in my fireplace.

"Yes?" I asked my friend, already knowing what she was going to say but too stubborn to acknowledge what today would hold.

"Are you almost ready, we have to be there soon." said Hermione.

"I am ready." I said.

When we finally arrived the place was nearly full, and we weren't even late!

"Pansy, are you are right?" Ron asked when he came into the room, he may be an idiot sometimes but he was also perceptive of people. A huge change from his days in Hogwarts.

"I'm fine." I lied through my teeth.

He looked skeptical but didn't push me any further.

When everyone finally arrived most of my friends were still together. Harry was with Daphne, Draco with Astoria, Ginny with Blaise, Neville with Luna, and Hermione with Viktor. Ron and I though went by ourselves, the only two left of our group without someone to love and be loved by.

Cho was wearing a off-white satin wedding dress and as much as I hate to say it, she looked beautiful. When it came to the part where they both said "I Do" it felt like it was taking forever to be over.

After the wedding was finally done we all headed off to the reception. The building that held the reception was all done up in red satin. I found it ironic that red was the color of passion, lust, anger, and love. All things that I felt when it came to the Theo.

After a little while of dancing with some of my friends and eating I needed a little time by myself. As I walked out to get some fresh air on the balcony. I didn't know how much time had passed until I walked back in the room and was confronted by Ron.

"Pansy, are you are right? Do you know you where gone for more at least an hour?" Ron asked, putting a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. Worry was evident in his eyes.

I can't help it, I start to cry and open up to my him, knowing that as a friend he wouldn't judge me. I told him about Theo, how Cho stole him. I told him about my loathing of satin, even though I still cherished the satin gifts from Theo.

"Well how about we ditch this place and go somewhere, a place where there is no satin." He said smiling.

I would never regret ditching the wedding, Ron and I had a better time by ourselves than we ever could of had there.

The funny thing is that when I'm with Ron, I find that I don't hate satin as much.

_Thank you Zombie Reine for beta'd_


	18. We Know It's Real, by Lune

_We Know It's Real_

_prompt: bells_

_character: Luna Lovegood_

_by_

_Eccentric 11 (Lune - Gryffindor)_

Bells; lovely things they are.

She was actually the one to introduce me to this somehow magical object. I owe her one.

And now, she's wearing them as earrings. Not only once did the thought of how lucky I am crossed my mind.

Of course our relationship is not all that flawless, but she always said that when something has flaws, we know it's real.

I don't quite remember how it all started… All I know is that she was there, and so was I.

"Evening." she came out of no where and stroke the creature in front of me that's supposed to be a thestral. "Luna Lovegod." Luna reached out and offered me a hand shake. "Do you know that a trained thestral can take you anywhere you want to go? As long as you mentioned the location?"

"Y-you can see _it_?" I stammered, as I spent the last hour speculating how to study something you can't even see.

"Of course. It was my mum. I was 9." she mumbled.

"Oh, sorry." I looked at the forest floor. "Uhm, Rolf Scamander." I remembered I haven't introduce myself. "Can you help me? I can't-" I was cut mid-sentence.

"Yea sure. This is it's head." she gently touched what seemed to be nothing. "Those are the wings." she seemed to be admiring them.

"Is it okay?" I hesitated to reach out my hand.

"They're very nice creatures." Luna smiled.

"That's not what the Ministry said…" I tried to recollect my memory of that day's daily prophet.

"You're weird." I remembered her laugh during that very first meeting "The Ministry have no right to classify thestrals like they did"- only now I realized that she actually seemed to be admiring me.

I asked her out a few months later. I only went out with one other girl before her, so that was pretty nerve-wracking. Apparently, a month of preparation wasn't enough for me. She wasn't like any typical girl, and so she doesn't like things a typical girl likes. For instance, I gave her flowers, she just kept the leaves. I gave her chocolates, she thought it was to keep the wrackspurts away. In the end, I gave up and just asked her outright. She said yes.

Everyone who knows us would probably say that she deserves more than me. Well I agree with that statement. Why? Because she really does.

One time, she fell on top of me on a puddle. She gazed at me with her dreamy eyes and said, "We are an odd couple, aren't we?" She then continued the journey as if that was a completely common statement that demands no reply or comment whatsoever. But well, I'm guessing that to her eyes, I'm just me, and she's just the girl who loves me enough to want to be with me. So we don't have to worry about anyone not deserving the other, we have enough.

We're like two pieces of a big puzzle; we don't complete the whole world, but at least we have each other and we complete each other's world.

She really changed me to be the person that I am now. I used to be a mess, not knowing what to do with my life-thinking that having a famous grandfather will fuel the rest of my life. But it was her that, through everything that she is, made me realize life's about dreaming and making the best out of it. So why should I stop living?

I looked at myself, all dressed up, and cleared my throat. I looked up, and there she was, my dream come true. What more can I possibly want?

Of course, I always wanted twins… But that will be a different matter.

Nothing else is important to me at this moment. I got Luna right there in front of my eyes.

She said 'I do.' and smiled, those magical words that made us even closer.

I leaned down to kiss her, and the Blibbering Humdingers started to dance around us, or at least I think they were. (What does Blibbering Humdingers look like anyway?)

It was a kiss of a lifetime, one we'll treasure. It was one of those kisses that is indescribable, one of those kisses where the bells ring.


	19. Awakening, by Julia

_Awakening_

_prompt: walking dead_

_character: Dennis Creevey_

_by _

_Julia Claire (Julia - Ravenclaw)_

_The world was full of pain, grief, guilt, and Colin. Everything else was only shadow, insubstantial._

_"Dennis!" a little-girl voice shouted joyfully. "My sister's okay! She's o - "_

_He turned around and saw her staring in horror at the body. "Oh," she whispered. "Oh, oh! Dennis... is that...? I'm so sorry..."_

_Anger formed out of the shadows for the first time, and he let it overtake him, pushing his own guilt away because that was just easier._

_"You should be!" he screamed, feeling almost insane. "It's your fault he's dead!"_

Dennis woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and shaking from yet another nightmare. For a second, he hoped that that was all it had been. Then he looked over at the empty bed across the room and knew that this _hell _was reality: Colin was dead. His stomach heaved, and he rolled out of bed, walked down to the bathroom, and threw up. A wave of nausea washed over him as the smell reached his nostrils, and now it was his mother he thought of, lying weak in a hospital bed after her chemotherapy. It wasn't fair; most kids never lost close family members at all, and he has lost two.

Splashing cold water on his face, Dennis accidentally caught a glimpse of the picture on the bathroom sink and, starting to sob, wished he hadn't. It was of their faces, Colin's and Dennis's, a close-up because Colin had taken the picture himself from an arm length's away. They were both smiling widely, putting their arms around each, unaware that one day they would be torn apart. Again, he was reminded of _that_ day, of seeing his brother lying dead upon the floor, of the little girl who'd found the two of them there. Dennis felt a white-hot flash of anger. It was her fault he hadn't -

He stopped, taking a breath, and tried to focus on forgetting, on pushing it all away. He felt _nothing;_ he remembered _nothing. _He was _nothing. _Glancing up into the mirror, he saw his own corpse again - the pale, expressionless Dennis whom he greatly preferred to the sobbing one. It was easier to be a Walking Dead Man than a living one, easier to stumble through the darkness and pretend he felt no pain than to live in the light, to see the truth clearly lying in front of him. In the dark, he could pretend it was not there.

He had tried to be a living man, instead of a Walking Dead one, but it was just too hard to write his friends, or go to the dinners Mrs. Weasley was always inviting him to, or even just smile back at his dad, too hard to be the Dennis he'd been before. He was only fourteen, for Merlin's sake, too young to have lost -

He felt _nothing, _he reminded himself firmly.

Not for the first time, he considered the third option, not life, or half-life, but death, true death, in which, he was sure, all the pain would stop. Then he heard his dad snoring in the next room and knew he couldn't go through with it. His father was already distraught about losing his eldest son so soon after losing his wife, and Dennis couldn't bear to add to that grief, couldn't bear to leave his father alone to face it. Or was he alone already? Dennis hasn't exactly faced anything.

Ignoring this new thought, he went back to bed. For a long time, he tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. The scarlet and gold banner that Colin had hung in their room when he'd come home from his first year at Hogwarts flapped in the wind. It reminded Dennis of who he was, of who his brother had been: Gryffindors, brave and true and strong, forever... He let out another sob. In the end, Dennis hadn't -

Stopping himself again, he got up, and tore down the banner, shoving it under his bed. Out of sight, out of mind. He didn't want to remember.

Dennis felt _nothing._

_They were watching television, bored out of their minds, as they had been for the past year, when Colin had suddenly cried out._

_"My D.A. coin, Dennis! My D.A. coin!" He checked the message on it and looked even more excited. "I told you he'd come eventually. He's _Harry Potter_, for Merlin's sake! Even You-Know-Who couldn't keep him out of Hogwarts." Colin stopped for a moment, evidently overcome by admiration for his hero, then went on, "Well, come on. Let's go."_

_"What?" Dennis asked, completely lost.._

_Colin had already started to leave the room. "Harry, Ron, and Hermione have gone back to Hogwarts and You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters are coming after them. They're fighting and I've - I've _got _to help, Dennis."_

_There were too many thoughts swirling around in his head to even try to make sense of them all, so Dennis didn't._

_"Me too," he said, still confused, but going by pure instinct as he stood up to follow his older brother as he has done all his life._

_It might have been boredom that made them decide so quickly - without caution, planning, or fear - but it was mostly testament to who they were. The Creevey brothers were forever forgetting to look before they leaped, to think before they acted. They fell quite a lot, but they always managed, somehow, to get back up again. That they wouldn't this time was unfathomable._

_Colin insisted that he could take them both to the Hog's Head, like it said on the coin, through Side-Along Apparition, despite the fact that he was underage, didn't have a license, and his only experience with Apparition was sneaking into some of Twycross's lessons for the sixth years in his fifth year_.

_"Colin!" Dennis exclaimed, starting to realise how dangerous what they were doing was. Simply getting into Hogwarts was going to be incredibly risky. "We're both going to be horribly Splinched. There's no way you can do this - "_

_"I can do it," Colin said firmly, "because I'll have to."_

_He sounded so determined, so set in his plan that Dennis knew there was no use arguing. He couldn't shake the bad feeling in his stomach, however. Could he really duel with Death Eaters? Did he want to? He wasn't even sure if Colin could, but he never bringing up the subject was fruitless. It would have been easier for Dennis to kill You-Know-Who himself than change Colin's mind once he'd made it up. Besides, he didn't want to look like a coward. Being in Gryffindor had always been very important to him and his brother._

_It took Colin nearly a half hour to work out how to Apparate into the Hog's Head, and in those thirty minutes, Dennis's anxiety only grew. He couldn't do this; he was too young... He could tell that Colin was getting nervous too. His face was a wall of concentration, but whenever he looked at his younger brother, the wall crumbled. In the end, Colin did manage to get them both to the Hog's Head relatively safely, although both lost their eyebrows in the process and Dennis very much wanted to throw up._

_The Hog's Head was full of people, some of which gave the Creeveys grins and waves as they bustled around the pub._

_"I did it!" Colin exclaimed, sounding shocked. "I actually - "_

_"You here to fight?" the bartender growled at them, looking annoyed._

_Colin nodded and told him proudly, "We're from Dumbledore's Army."_

_The man rolled his eyes, mumbling, "Of course you are... Young hotheads..." He looked doubtfully down at them. "How old are you two, anyway?"_

_"Seventeen," Colin said, then added softly, so the man wouldn't hear, "Almost."_

_"Fourteen," Dennis whispered._

_"Fourteen!" the man exclaimed. "Are you out of your bloody mind, coming to fight You-Know-Who at _fourteen_? You'll be killed in about two seconds, lad. And you," he turned on Colin, "his older brother, I suppose?"_

_"Yeah," Colin muttered, looking suddenly ashamed._

_"Letting your brother come here to fight - you shouldn't even be fighting yourself!"_

_"Maybe... maybe you should stay here, Dennis," said Colin. He looked a little pale, but perhaps it was the lighting._

_"But - " He stopped, and they fell into silence. Dennis wasn't sure what to say. He didn't want to be a coward, but he really didn't want to go fight. The man, whoever he was, was right - he had no chance against the Death Eaters._

_He would always regret that he hadn't demanded to go, no matter what, hadn't been a true Gryffindor like his older brother. Perhaps then he would have gone to fight with Colin; perhaps they'd still be together. Instead, he trailed into silence and wasted the precious seconds that would have allowed him to escape from _her_, from the fate she gave him._

Slowly, things got better. Living didn't seem so painful, the nightmares all but stopped, and the memories - they didn't fade, exactly, but they receded, loosened their grip on him. He no longer had to shut himself down at every second to feel no pain.

Going back to Hogwarts was one of the most difficult things he had ever done because the school held so many memories - good and bad - of his brother. Colin had died in the school, but he had also lived in it. Sometimes, Dennis would still look, almost unconsciously, for his brother in the corridors or the common room, before remembering that he'd never see him there again. It was hard, too, watching seventh years like Ginny Weasley, Demelza Robbins, and Ritchie Coote enjoy their final year at Hogwarts, knowing that Colin should be among them. He could feel their eyes on him, sometimes, could feel their pity burning into his back. He never turned around to look at them; Dennis didn't need pity. Worse was when would slip and call him Colin. It was always a terrible moment, when they realised their mistake, and horrified, attempted to apologise to him. Dennis would smile, lie that it was fine, and wish that they would all just leave him alone.

Despite all this, he managed it. He didn't exactly graduate the top of the class, but then, no one had ever expected him to do that, even before Colin had died. He went to the Quidditch games, cheered for Gryffindor, played Exploding Snap with his friends, and dated a few (well, two) girls. In the end, he had fun and even stopped feeling guilty about that after a while. After he graduated, Dennis got a job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and he liked it enough. He had tried his hand at being a reporter at the Daily Prophet, but - it wasn't for him. It just wasn't. Dennis had quit after two weeks.

By all appearances, he'd moved on, and Dennis reckoned he had, as much as anyone could, from losing their mum and their brother less than a decade apart. There were times, like when he'd had a bad day, or it was inching closer to the second of May or the fourteenth of June, Colin's birthday, when Dennis would look in the mirror and see his own corpse again. Or else he'd see a flash of long blond hair in the streets that reminded him of _her_, or two brothers playing together, or sometimes just the Picture Page of the Daily Prophet, and he'd feel like a Walking Dead Man again. He'd shut down and forget, telling himself that he felt _nothing_, nothing at all.

Dennis didn't think he'd ever stop being a Walking Dead Man, not completely, so he didn't even try. It was easier that way.

_"Mr. Aberforth?" a young girl with a French accent asked, coming over to them from where she'd been sitting at one of the tables. She looked Veela, with her white-blond hair and glowing skin, but Dennis wasn't sure. She couldn't have been more than eleven._

_"What?" he asked grouchily. "It's not time for you to go yet - they haven't evacuated the students."_

_"Oh," she said, rather nervously. "I zought zat zey were underage."_

_"That one is," the bartender, Aberforth, evidently, told her, pointing at Dennis, then, apparently losing interest with all of them, walked over towards the group of people who had just entered the pub, shaking his head and muttering under his breath._

_"_I'm_ seventeen," Colin told the girl, puffing out his chest. Dennis could tell he'd been offended._

_"Almost," muttered Dennis.._

_"But maybe you should stay with Gabrielle," Colin went on, looking at his younger brother, "to protect her. After all, she's younger than you."_

_It was the way out that Dennis had been looking for. "Alright." Still, he wasn't sure that his brother should go either. "But - "_

_The girl looked a little affronted. "I do not need - "_

_Colin looked at her, and a look passed between them that Dennis did not understand._

_"What?" Dennis asked._

_"Nothing," Colin told him. "I'll see you later, okay? Stay with - " He looked at the girl._

_"Gabrielle," she said._

_"Gabrielle," he repeated. "Don't come to the castle until the Battle's over. You'll be evacuated with the other students."_

_"Colin," Dennis said, once again thinking of their mum. "Maybe you shouldn't go either."_

_"I have to," Colin told him determinedly. "I just - have to."_

_"Colin - "_

_"I'll be all right. See you later." With that, he was gone, disappearing into the crowd._

_"Are you scared for 'im?" the French girl asked._

_"Yeah," he sighed, looking after his brother. "I wish - " He shook his head, wondering how he could let his brother do something that he himself was so scared of. Surely, though, Dennis told himself, he _would _have gone, if it hadn't been for Gabrielle. He _had _to stay here, to protect her._

_Gabrielle looked just as anxious. "My seester eez fighting. So eez 'er 'usband and all of 'is family. Eet makes me very nervous, especially for Fleur."_

_She continued in this vein for some time, and as he felt that his own nervous-looking face was not helping, he decided to put on a brave one. _

_"She'll be all right," he said. "Colin will protect her. He's a brilliant dueller!"_

_This was certainly true, at least in Dennis's opinion, and he relaxed slightly. Colin _would _be all right._

_For some reason, this did not console her in the way he thought it would. She still looked worried, biting her upper lip and scanning the room at all times._

_"How'd you get here, anyway?" he asked her. "Don't you go to Beauxbatons?"_

_"I was to start zis September," said Gabrielle. "Alzough, yes, I live een France. I was visiting Fleur because my parents were taking a day-trip. Ze war eez not so bad in France. I could 'ave gone with zem, but I wanted to see - " She blushed, then continued, "I wished to see 'Arry, Ron, and 'Ermione, 'oo were visiting my seester. By ze time I got zere, 'owever, zey 'ad already left. Zen we got ze summons and seence my seester did not want to leave me alone or know exactly where my parents were..." She shrugged. "I ended up 'ere."_

"_Oh." He nodded._

_"Oh!" Gabrielle said after a minute,, standing up and pacing. "'Ow can you stand zis?"_

_"She'll be okay," said Dennis in what he hoped was a confident tone. "I told you, Colin will protect her!"_

_She shuddered._

_"Hey, look," he told her. "It'll be okay."_

_Since his reassurances seemed to have no effect on her, he tried to distract her. He told her all about Colin and his dad, about Harry Potter and the D.A. (she particularly seemed to enjoy those stories), and of his and Colin's plan to work at the Daily Prophet as a reporter and a photographer._

_"Why ze Daily Prophet?" she asked. "Fleur says that eet eez very corrupt. She deed not like zheir coverage of ze Tri-Wizard. Also, zey do not much like 'Arry, yes?"_

_He grinned. "Colin wants to make sure that they never make fun of him again."_

_She laughed, and he felt quite proud of himself for getting her to, at least temporaily, forget about the danger. Soon, the rest of the students came through the passage, and Dennis and Gabrielle were evacuated with them. He continued to tell her stories, trying desperately to keep her worries - and his own - at bay._

_He was scared for Colin, but in his heart, he never really expected him to die. No doubt that was why it came as such a shock._

Nearly eight years after Colin's death, he was sitting in the Leaky Cauldron, telling his mates some story, when suddenly, they all stopped laughing at once and stared fixedly behind him. Dennis knew that this behaviour could only mean one thing - a very pretty girl - so naturally, he swivelled in his seat.

In fact, she was much more than pretty - she was gorgeous. almost glowing in the dark pub. As she swept past them, she flipped her long hair, her expression haughty, completely ignoring all the gaping men, including Dennis, although he wasn't staring at her for the same reasons as the others. The sight of her was like a punch in the stomach. Gabrielle Delacour had changed a lot in the past eight years, but she was still the last person he'd ever want to see. He could not believe that she was here, of all places. The sight of her reawakened so many painful memories, revived so many terrible feelings - anger and grief and -

He shut himself down, reverting completely to a Walking Dead Man again. Dennis had not felt like this since the months right after Colin had died. Or perhaps, he had not _not_ felt.

Finally managing a hoarse, "I have to go," he got up, walking stiffly, robotically. He didn't know what to do, where to go, couldn't even remember how to Apparate.

"Dennis?"

"Creevey, get back here!"

"Where the hell is he going?"

He heard his friends' voices as though they were very far away, but made no answer. Suddenly, the concept of Apparition came back to him, and he was halfway gone when he heard the sound of heels clacking and felt sharp nails pinch his arm. Gabrielle did not let him disappear into the darkness; she went with him, and he hated her all the more for it.

They landed in his own flat, and he immediately pulled away from her, revolted and angry and -

He felt _nothing_. She was _nothing_.

"Dennis?" she said, although it sounded more like Denise. He made no answer, only stumbled away into the kitchen. She followed after him and gave him a shake. "What eez wrong wizz you?"

"Nothing," he said stiffly, trying to convince her as much as himself.

"I did not expect you to look like zis, to still 'ate me so much." Gabrielle gave a short, humourless laugh, "I did not expect to see you at all, I suppose. I only just arrived in England, you know, two weeks ago." She looked over at him again. "But you do not care about zis, no?"

Dennis did not care much about anything at the moment. He walked up the stairs; again, she came after him. He wanted her to go away. It was too hard to be a Walking Dead Man while she was around, too hard to forget about Colin or keep his anger in check.

"Dennis!" she cried. "Stop eet! You are acting very strange, like one of ze... one of ze dead."

He looked back at her, meeting her icy blue eyes for the first time, although he quickly glanced away. He was struck but the similarity of this to his own thoughts. No one had ever guessed before.

"Zis eez stupid, Dennis!" cried Gabrielle. "So stupid! Why are you doing zis? And why are you not working at ze Daily Prophet? I zought eet was your dream, but Ginny told me - "

He was finding it more and more difficult to control his anger and hate towards this witch, this murderess. The Walking Dead Man that was him did not much care. Anger was much easier than -

He shut down _that_ thought.

"I didn't like it," he snarled. "Is that all right with you?"

"No," said Gabrielle. "Eet eez not, because I theenk that you would 'ave been a reporter if your brozzer had not died. I theenk you could not do it wizzout 'im - "

"Shut up!" he screamed at her, losing the very last of his control. He didn't want to think about this, not now, not ever. He hated the way she filled his _nothing. _"Just shut up! What's it your business what I'm doing with my life? You have to be the most insensitive person I've ever met, thinking you can just waltz into my life after _you killed Colin_?" He looked up her, disgusted at the effort it took him not to notice how pretty she was. "I hate you! I _hate_ you!"

"Feel free," she snapped. "Most people do, and I am very used to eet. 'Owever," she stopped, and her voice softened as she continued, "I do feel bad for you, Dennis. If I'd lost Fleur in zat battle, I would have felt much ze same, I theenk. So I am sorry about Colin."

"It was your fault - " Dennis started furiously, trying not to care about how genuine her words sounded.

"Eet was not! I am sorry zat my sibling lived, and yours did not. I am sorry zat Colin died. I cried for 'im; I liked 'im very much. At some point, 'owever, you 'ave to move on - "

"If I hadn't stayed," he choked, unable to stop the words from escaping his lips. There was something about her - her directness? her aura? - that made it hard for him to be a Walking Dead Man. "Maybe I could have saved him."

She looked at him, sudden understanding sweeping her beautiful face. "Eet eez not your fault eizzer, Dennis."

"You don't know that," he said. "Maybe he'd still be dead, but maybe it would have been me, instead. Maybe we both would have survived."

"Colin wanted you to stay," she told him. "'Ow could you not know zat? I zought you 'ated me because my seester survived and your brozzer didn't, but you blame me because I stopped you from going with 'im."

"It was _my _fault!" he sobbed. "He died because of me, because I was too scared to fight. I was supposed to be brave like him, a Gryffindor, but - "

There it was at last - the light had been switched on and the truth, or at least, part of it, was laid out bare in front of him, no longer hidden between his hatred for Gabrielle, behind the Walking Dead Man that he forced himself to be.

"Dennis," Gabrielle said, sounding truly soothing for the first time that night. "You were, what? Fourteen? You could 'ave done nozzing against zose Deazz Eaters. You could not 'ave saved 'im. 'E_ wanted _you to stay, wanted to protect you. Eet was obvious; 'e would 'ave found some excuse, in ze end, to leave you be'ind, even if I 'adn't been there. 'Onestly, I am not even sure why 'e brought you along at all."

"That was just Colin," he muttered. "He _never _thought before he acted, but he always considered me his equal. We did everything together, except - " He broke off, the tears rolling down his face. He did not know what to believe anymore.

"Colin eez dead, Dennis. 'E eez dead, and 'e eez not coming back." A tear slid down Gabrielle's face, and she looked almost surprised at it. "Eet was not my fault, and eet was not yours - "

"I was a coward!" he sobbed. "Such a coward!"

"You are a coward now!" she thundered. "Not zen, Dennis, but now! You cannot accept ze truzz; you are taking ze easy way out! Avoiding ze 'ard zings, like me and being a reporter - "

He knew she was right, but -

"I didn't deserve it," he said, not knowing where all this was coming from. He had not realised how much he had been hiding from himself. "Not when Colin didn't get to be a photographer with me - "

"You 'ave to move on!" she shrieked. "You 'ave too!"

"I can't!" he screeched, his hands over his ears, wishing she would leave.

"Coward," she said, taunting him now, in his face. "Be brave, Dennis. Like Colin. Like _you_. For Merlin's sake, look at me, Dennis!"

He shuddered and removed his hands from his face, and there she was, an inch away. The things he had kept at bay for so long had caught up to him. Every nightmare, every feeling he had squashed away - Gabrielle had led them back to him.

"Wake up," she told him softly. "Wake up and do _somezzing."_

"Gabrielle," he whimpered, saying her name for the first time. "Gabrielle."

It was as though everything had frozen, and Dennis has to decide between the truth and the lies, the easy path or the hard one, _nothing_ or _something_, cowardice or bravery, _life or death._

Gabrielle was still right in front of him and he didn't know what the hell to do, so he just kissed her, not because she was Veela, but because he had made his choice, damn it all.

Dennis was going to _live_.

**A million thanks to DoubleCaramel (Karla) for giving me some much-needed help on this story, and to Tat1312 for letting me "steal" her ship from the last collaboration.**


End file.
